


The Front Line

by CazBunny



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fire Emblem: Fates Spoilers, Invisible Kingdom | Revelation Route, Love Triangle But Not Really At All Actually, M/M, No Deeprealms, Rewrite But That Really Has No Bearing On The Story TBH, Slow Burn, Weekly Updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-08-19 16:26:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 122,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16538105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CazBunny/pseuds/CazBunny
Summary: War is fought on many fronts and Corrin finds herself fighting on all of them. Inexperienced and out of her league, she struggles just to keep herself and her cause alive. A quest for peace is not so simple when pacifism has no place on the battlefield and the enemy can't be seen.Revelation Divergence.





	1. After Izumo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corrin suffers from a nightmare. Leo dwells in the aftermath of Izumo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a rewrite of The Front Line. You do not have to have read the previous version at all to read this one!

            The world was quiet. Corrin lay awake under sheets that scratched. She stared out into the dark, making shapes of the slumbering shadows. Her skin was hot, but her blood was cold. The air bore down on her with wicked intent. Gentle chatter swelled from the courtyard below. She tried to listen for concrete words, but the sound only faded as the speakers traveled farther away. The time had escaped her along with her sleep.

            With uneasy fingers, she drew her sweat laden hair from her face and then untangled herself from her sheets. Three quick strides brought her to the window. The empty floor yawned at her from the black. She ignored the chill that forked down her spine and pushed aside the curtains.

            The courtyard was dead beneath the window. Whoever had roused her from her still had vanished entirely. The moon hung low and swollen among the brittle stars. She pulled both hands through her hair, squeezing at her skull beneath the thin flesh. The curtain swung back into place with a soft rustle.

            She gripped at her arms like she might float away if she let go. Her head throbbed with phantom memory plucked from her nightmare and she was too weak to keep it at bay.

_"I hope you like the dark! I'm about to drown you in it!"_

            Her chest tightened. It strangled her breath. Her jaw clenched. Her fingernails carved crescents into her palms. She wished she had stayed in bed.  

            Then, it passed. Tears dripped off her chin and splashed onto the bare skin of her forearm. She swiped at her eyes, enraged by the brimming emotion. She moved for the door and threw it open. The steps passed two at a time beneath her until she’d reached the soft grass at their base.

             The night air was soft. Her damp hair swayed in the gentle breeze. She walked around her treehouse and then set off through the camp. A sea of tents and huts stretched endlessly into the horizon. Before the end of the month, there would be more huts built for more families that arrived.

            Every day since the attack on Fort Jinya, waves of refugees, Hoshidian and Nohrian alike, poured into the fort, given Lilith’s power and Corrin’s blessing. With the threat of war ever present, they flocked to the idea of peace and quickly surpassed the capacity of the fort. In those first few days, tempers had run high and Corrin had braved more than one shouting match, lashing out at anyone that dared suggest she had no idea how to acquire provisions. The stress had driven her to thoughts of abandoning her cause.

            _But Lilith saved me,_ Corrin thought.

            Whenever things had seemed like they’d reached their boiling point, Lilith had calmed her with gentle words and genuine reassurance.

            _“They may drive you crazy, but you need them,”_ Lilith had said when a particular refugee had grown ornery at the prospect of working for their keep. _“After all, you can’t fight a war without an army. “_

            With Lilith’s guidance, Corrin had been able to manipulate the wards surrounding the fortress to allow them access to a land abundant in lumber, food, and anything else they needed. The refuges had been more than willing to help, but it had not been easy. Establishing a livable space for an army was an arduous process and still, months later, there was no end in sight. New refuges arrived by the dozens every day and they wouldn't stop coming until the war was over.

            Thankfully, they had their uses. As they banded together, the displaced villagers had been able to turn the everyday minutia of the fort into a functional base. They ensured that the army was well fed, equipped, and clothed. With their basic needs accounted for, all those of able mind and body devoted themselves to training and the army ranks swelled with young soldiers, eager to fight for a cause of justice and peace. Though inexperienced and quickly trained, their vigor and dedication to their cause and to her proved to be ferocious on the battlefield. When Zola's lackeys had outnumbered them two to one in Izumo earlier that day, they'd emerged victorious and suffered few causalities. It was unbelievable.

            Corrin had been so impressed by their success that she could’ve cried. Now, the thought of Izumo made her eyes sting and her chest heavy for entirely different reasons.

 _"You've abandoned us and I've abandoned my care for you,"_  Leo had said. He wasn't wrong and she had expected nothing less, but it wasn’t _fair._ His family had kept her as a glorified prisoner and hostage plaything for twelve years.

            _Twelve years without my family,_ Corrin thought, _Without my freedom._

            Corrin came to a halt, suddenly aware of the heaviness of her feet. They had grown numb from the chilled ground, but they began to pulsate in their stillness. The breeze whistled through the slumbering camp. It blew damp curls across her face and through her parted lips. She spit it out. She brought a hand to her chest, kneading it against her breastbone to ease the dull aching. She knew its source too well. The memory of their faces made her heart pang.

            The hoot of an owl drew Corrin from her reverie. The stars were painfully bright overhead. She winced. Then, she began walking.

            Corrin walked until she came to the gates and manipulated the wards to allow her into the forest and then kept walking. She walked into the shrouded trees and didn't stop before she reached the lake. It was just as beautiful as the first time she saw it.

_They had spent the past hour tramping through the forest, documenting any resource they located. It was exhausting, but it needed to be done if they were going to survive. It may have been a magical forest in a mystery land, but, so far, nothing they needed had magically appeared. So they scouted._

_Tired of staring at tree after tree, Corrin insisted they follow a nearby creek to its source. When Jakob refused, Corrin snuck off and then followed the creek alone. When she crested the hill to stand before the lake, she was glad she was alone._

_In reality, it was more of a glorified pond than a lake but it might as well have been the ocean. It was a murky blue with a scattering of water lilies and cattails. A heron stood by the edge, hunting for lunch. A warm breeze blew through her hair and when she inhaled it tasted like the sun. Standing on the hill, staring across the water, her eyes grew hot with unshed wonder._

            Now, she sat on the sandy bank with a sigh. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she rested her chin on her knees and stared out at the calm water. There were ripples and, in the distance, a lone bullfrog called out into the night. Though her dream had not left her, she felt a restless peace.

            She didn’t know how long she sat there before twigs snapped in the woods behind her. At the sound of their footsteps, her fingers shot to the smooth stone around her neck and then she shot to her feet and called, "Who's there?"

            "Calm down.”

            Her brother stepped into the light and she breathed a sigh of relief. Her dragonstone thumped back against the hollow of her throat.  

            "Can't sleep?" she asked.

            In the starlight, his hair was just as colorless as hers. His skin was even paler. His entire body glistened with sweat. He didn’t answer so she tried, "How did you know I was here?"

            He shrugged, but the motion was tight and pinched.  

            "Saw you leaving,” he said, “followed you here."

            She nodded and sat back down on the moist grass. She patted the dewy grass beside her, looking up at him intently. He huffed, but he joined her, crossing one leg over the other and setting his hands atop his knees.

 _Did you have a nightmare?_  she wanted to ask but didn't. The moment was too fragile.

            She sat in silence, staring out over the lake, listening to the running water and the wind through the trees.

            "There was a lake like this in Shirasagi," Takumi said.

            In the few short weeks she'd spent in Hoshido, she hadn't gone there because she hadn't even known there was a lake and, if she'd seen it in her youth, she couldn't remember it now. Everything before she'd been abducted was fuzzy impressions at best, absolute nothingness at worst.

            Corrin tried to imagine what that lake looked like, picturing crystalline water, swimming koi, and drifting delicate, pink sakura blossoms drawing ripples across the still surface. She thought of the touch of water so crisp and cool, and she could taste spring on her tongue.

            "I'll take you there when this is all over,” he said.

            She stayed with Takumi at her side until the stars went away and the sun began to peak over the horizon.

 

* * *

 

_February 17_

_I had the dream again tonight. The one that I don't know I'm having until I wake up. Is a dream really a dream if you don't know it's a dream? If, even after you wake up, it still feels real even though you know there's no way it could be?_

_This is the fifth time that I can remember having it, though it’s my first time writing it down. I always wake up in a cold sweat with my own name ringing in my ears. Then everything goes so quiet that I swear I must have gone deaf. I bet if my name were Beth it'd be a lot less foreboding._

_I wish I could remember. If I remembered then maybe it wouldn't be so damn frightening. It's not so much the dream but the feeling after I wake up. The silence, the dread that settles in goose flesh across my entire body when I realize where I am, that I'm not wherever I was in the dream. There's always some part of me that feels wrong and out of place. I wish I could say it was ridiculous but I feel like it's something I've always known but never admitted._

_All I want is to be there. I know if I go to the place in my dream, things will heal. I feel broken but I don't know what’s done the breaking. It's always been a part of me but it's so much more unignorable now._

_After I woke up, I walked around the fortress. The cold stone felt good under my feet. There’s something really calming about being the only one awake in the middle of night. No one can h—_

            "Ah, I was wondering where you were hiding, Leo."

            Jolting upright, Leo slammed the book shut. The sound was stifled by the thousands of tomes adorning the walls of the study. Remembering himself, he uncoiled his guilty posture, sent his gaze to skim the curves of his jagged fingernails, and then asked, "How is Father?"

            Xander sighed. Leo knew that his eyebrows were pinched together. Camilla often said their older brother's royal portrait should be redone with the customary worry lines between his brows.

 _"Someone might think he knows how to relax,”_ she’d said and then she’d laughed that skittering laugh that scraped at his ears. He realized he’d grown to miss that laugh.

            "Father is occupied with the war,” Xander said. “We barely spoke."

            Leo clenched his fist until his fingers were taut and bloodless. He buried his hand into the sofa cushion beneath him and thought, _So Father is continuing to act strangely and pray to the ceiling dragon._  

            As his brother moved to sit in the armchair across from him, Leo’s thoughts turned to what Corrin had said in Izumo, " _I learned that Garon… He's being manipulated by someone,”_ and then to Corrin herself. To the ragged hole she’d torn out of his chest when she’d turned from them.

 _She lied,_ he thought. _That’s what traitors do._

            But he'd let her go.

            "Has there been any word from Camilla?" Leo asked, glancing towards his brother. Peri and Laslow stared at him from either of Xander’s shoulders. It had been months since he’d seen his brother with only one shadow.

            His brother touched a hand to his brow and said, “She's made contact with the Ice Tribe but there’s been no word beyond that."

            Leo leaned back into the sofa. He crossed his legs, attempting at a posture of nonchalance.

           "Good," Leo said.

            The once overbearing Camilla had become a recluse. Since that fateful day on the outskirts of Hoshido, she avoided everyone and spoke only in monotone. She hadn’t been at Castle Krakenburg in at least a month. Before he'd left for Mokushu, Odin had shared a letter with him from Selena:  _Lady Camilla is getting worse. She refuses to listen to us and keeps throwing herself into danger every chance she gets. She wants to die before King Garon sends her after Corrin._

            Lost in thought, Leo wormed a fingernail between his teeth and began to gnaw on what little bit of nail there was. It bent against the pressure of his teeth and then he wrenched it free.

            "What are you reading?"

            Finger still parting his lips, Leo’s eyes widened. Behind either of Xander’s shoulders, Peri and Laslow loomed. Their faces were cast in shadow from the magelight Leo had cast overhead.

            _It’s nothing,_ Leo nearly blurted but the fear withered under Xander’s unaccusatory stare. Leo relaxed, laid his hands across the cover, and said, “This details the geography of Hoshido.”

            Xander's mouth tightened but he didn't press the subject. Leo thumbed the spine, wondered if the loose binding was Corrin's doing or damage done from his own poor care. He'd already read it several times over, though he found no comfort in the words written in her cramped, unbecoming penmanship. He'd found it the day Corrin had seemingly died, hidden among her many unworn shoes.

            The anguish of memory assaulted his tongue. He could picture himself, hunched over and shaking, peering down into the abyss that he was so certain Corrin had fallen into.

            _But she didn’t fall into the abyss,_ Leo thought, staring at the guarded expression on his brother’s face. _We did._

            They all handled Corrin’s betrayal differently but they all handled it alone. Xander had so thoroughly devoted himself to his role as Crown Prince that Leo rarely saw his brother anymore. He never spoke of Corrin, having gone so far as to forbid the mere mention of her name. Camilla had stopped speaking entirely. She hid within her quarters when she wasn’t drowning in the distillery or cleaving through a battlefield. And Leo took notes from both but he couldn't be as selfish as Camilla or as heartless as Xander. He had tried, but Izumo had changed everything, shaken his faith in himself. Only Elise had chosen to act like everything was the same, but she wasn’t very good at it. Especially after Xander had snapped at her, had told her to stop believing in fairytales.

 _Corrin, do you know the pain you’ve wrought?_ he thought. 

            He glanced down at the worn journal in his lap. His eyes began to burn. He began to burn. She'd abandoned them, didn't deserve his thoughts.

 _“I've abandoned my care for you,"_  he'd told her, but that was only partially true. They had been the best of friends, thicker than thieves. His affection for her could not be so easily dashed and done away with. He couldn't pretend it had vanished the moment she had turned traitor. It would always be there to stay his hand and to give him pause.

            He wanted to punch his fists through his eyes, to dig and twist until he’d reduced the simmering heartache to ash. But he couldn’t do that with Xander in the room. He couldn’t do anything but think and wonder and remember.

            _“I can’t stand it here, Leo,” Corrin said. “Sometimes it’s so lonely and horrible that I think about leaping from my bedroom window.”_

_They sat pressed against the black iron gate that secured the perimeter of the Northern Fortress. He’d joined her only moments prior. She had disappeared after her morning training session with Xander. The entire estate had been turned upside down in the ensuing search._

_“But I never have and I don’t think I ever will.”_

_Leo folded his hands in his lap and then stared out into the woods beside her._

_“I want to see the world outside these gates. I want to go flower picking with Elise and attend galas with Camilla and fight in tournaments with Xander and…”_

_She raised a hand to the bar and then grabbed onto it until her fingers whitened._

_“What brought this on?” Leo asked. He didn’t know what else to say. He was only fifteen. She would be sixteen in three days’ time. The sun hid behind dusty clouds. The spring thaw had just melted the ice blanketing the forest around them._

_“Xander told me why he can’t be here for my birthday. About the peace summit with Hoshido.”_

_Leo hung his head, glaring into his open palms._

_**Of course,** he thought. **Hoshido.**_

**** _The topic of Hoshido always made Corrin sullen. She never gave any indication that she knew the truth of her imprisonment, but mentions of Hoshido never failed to sour the mood. Some part of her knew and it was always clawing to get out._

_“I’ve read that the sun shines every day in Hoshido,” she said. “And that the people there know no hardship.”_

_**Where did you read that?** Leo thought but didn’t say. Corrin leaned forward and then laid her forehead against the bars, staring cockeyed into the looming pines._

_“And I know Hoshido is our enemy but a place like that…”_

_She stuck a hand between the bars and then grasped at the empty air._

_“It can’t be all bad, right?”_

            Leo stared at his hands. A cold chill gripped him and wrestled with the fury that boiled within his chest. His encounter in Izumo had stirred up these memories and nothing he did kept them from returning.

            "Something troubling you, brother?" Xander asked.

            Xander’s stern eyes bore through Leo's skull. Leo longed for the time before war and politics bloodshed had hardened his brother’s eyes and heart. 

            "Could you kill Corrin if it came to it?" Leo asked. His voice was calm, metered despite the question. His brother scowled. Behind him, Laslow and Peri’s expressions shifted into frowns of bald concern.

            "Where did that question come from?"

            Leo dug his fingers into the soft cushions of the sofa beneath him. He could feel fabric and cotton twisting between his harpooning fingers.

            "What does it matter where it came from?" Leo spat. "Could you?"

            He felt that Laslow and Peri might leap over Xander to throttle him. Their stares were dark and foreboding.

            "Did something happen in Mokushu?"

            Leo’s knuckles strained against the restraints of the sofa. He wanted to punch through the knit cover and pull at the cotton guts beneath. He demanded, "Could you kill her, Xander?"

            Xander sat impossibly still. Shadows cut sharp angles from the planes of his face, twisting it into something darker. The black steel of his circlet seemed etched into his skin. Leo’s stomach turned.

            _He looks like father,_ he thought.

            "If necessary," Xander said.

            Leo scowled as a shiver sank into his core and then pressed, “What if it wasn't?"

            Xander sighed in frustration and then leaned back against the armchair. His grim expression melted away. He looked so much older and very tired. He asked, "Could you Leo?"

            "Of course," he said.

            His voice echoed with a bravado he couldn’t feel. Xander nodded, mouth tight and turned away, almost too fast for Leo to catch the burning emotion in his eyes.

            _He was lying,_ Leo thought. _He doesn’t know it but he was lying too._

Then, as Xander announced his leave, Leo thought, _How much longer will it be before it’s no longer a lie?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the rewrite begins! I intend to update this weekly unless I fall completely behind in my writing schedule. I have the first ten chapters written already so that shouldn't happen, but life's crazy sometimes!  
> Not a lot changed from the old version of this chapter. I made some grammatical & structural edits, but the main changes came in Leo's section as I wanted to go much more into his emotional turmoil and confusion over the whole situation. I also decided to start here rather than at the very beginning because that was more of a lukewarm introduction than an actual start to the story and I honestly just didn't really like it much!
> 
> PSA: If you read the rewrite comment and went WTF, don't fret. This is the most current and correct version of this fic. An older version exists, but it has since become obsolete (since I wrote OBSOLETE next to the title and in the description lol) and will diverge MAJORLY from the scope of this version.


	2. Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corrin enjoys teatime with Azura. Kana _isn't_ homesick.

            As the growing darkness of twilight settled across the sky, Corrin sat with her legs wedged beneath her on the floor of Azura’s bedroom. She drew her lips tight as her legs began to tingle with the onset of numbness. Across from her, Azura sat in the same fashion, but, unlike Corrin, there was no strain to mar the soft swell of her lips.

 _"There's just something so relaxing about sitting and drinking this way. More natural somehow,"_  Azura had explained, but Corrin wasn’t inclined to agree. It always left her with throbbing legs and an aching back. As much as Corrin wanted to forge connections to the traditions of her homeland, there were certain things that she feared she’d never grow to love. She’d spent too many years apart from Hoshido to ever hope of truly reclaiming it in her heart. 

            _Thanks, Garon,_ Corrin thought as she brought her steaming tea cup to her lips. She drank too fast. The hot tea scalded her tongue. Her eyes grew heavy with tears. She set the cup down quickly.

            "Still hot?"

            Corrin scowled. Azura chuckled softly and then blew on the steam curling above the lip of her cup.

            It had been Azura's idea, as all good ideas were, to start meeting regularly. Speaking with Azura always helped Corrin to clear her head and calm her spirits. They made time for each other at least once a day and spent it chatting and laughing. They spoke of everything from their respective childhoods to dinner the night before.

            “It’s good tea,” Azura said after she’d ventured a sip. “I’ll have to be sure to thank Jakob for suggesting it.”

            Corrin rolled her eyes. Azura raised a brow.

            “If you do that, his ego will be unimaginable.”

            Azura smirked. She said, “It can’t be much worse than it is now.”

            Corrin laughed. She tested her tea again, but it was still too hot. She set it down and then rubbed at her eyes.    

            “You seem tired.”

            “I haven’t been sleeping well,” Corrin said.

            Azura had taken another drink of her tea, but she hummed and gestured for Corrin to elaborate.

            “I’ve been having these nightmares that are really…”

            _Terrifying, horrific, chilling,_ Corrin thought but settled for, “Weird.”

            “Weird like you’re late to dinner with foreign dignitaries and all your clothes have vanished?” Azura asked.

             Her smile was gentle, but a tension hovered beneath.

            “Not exactly. They’re more like memories almost. Memories of things that haven’t happened and then sometimes they _almost_ happen like…”

             Azura’s face had grown stony. Corrin turned to the window, staring out at the cotton clouds swimming through the sky.

            “Like in Mokushu. A few days before Mokushu, I dreamt that I was running through a forest with Mokushujin ninja hot on my tail and Takumi was…”

            _Possessed,_ Corrin nearly said but took in the look on Azura’s face and then thought better of it and said instead, “Something was wrong with Takumi. That’s why I was so suspicious of Kotaro but it didn’t happen like that and nothing happened to Takumi.”

            Corrin watched Azura’s tea cup buck and jitter in her thin hands. Then, Azura set it down. A drop of tea stained the white satin on her arm brown.

            “How many have you had like that?” she asked.

             Corrin shrugged, careful to hide the truth within a casual tone as she said, “A few but like I said—”

            “How many exactly?”

            Azura’s voice was cold. Corrin stiffened.

            “What’s wrong? You’re acting so strange.”

            Corrin took her tea from the floor and sipped at it again as Azura’s fingers curled tight around the pendant hanging from her neck. The tea had finally cooled. Corrin found it too bitter.

            “In Valla,” Azura said, “they believed that they could divine all sorts of things from your dreams like your future spouse or which color would bring you the most luck or the person or thing that would bring your demise.”

            Corrin nodded and thought, _There was an old Nohrian wives’ tale like that._ _Camilla used to say it all the time. Something about dreaming of fish and pregnancy._

“For the most part, it was superstitious rambling, but there was some truth to it. Those who spent time in the presence of Anankos experienced prophetic dreams. They were great oracles and they were the first ones to know that he had become mad.”

            “But that doesn’t mean anything,” Corrin said. “I haven’t been anywhere _near_ Anankos.”

            “The oracles weren’t the only ones that had those dreams. Near the end—”

            Something darkened Azura’s eyes and expression, but she shook her head and changed her tone.

            “There were others that Anankos sought out. He invaded their minds and manipulated them. The dreams always came first.”

            Corrin didn’t respond. Her thoughts had trailed to the plethora of strange dreams she’d had. None of them had made her feel particularly insane, but they certainly hadn’t given her the warm and fuzzies.

            “I’ll speak to Orochi,” Azura said. “I believe Mikoto trained her in dream divination. She may be able to—”

            There was a knock on the door. 

            “Lady Azura? Is Lady Corrin with you?” Gunter asked.

            Corrin shook her head, but Azura invited him in. The door swung open, revealing the grizzled knight’s dour face.

            “I apologize for the intrusion Lady Azura,” Gunter said, bowing his head, “but there is an urgent situation that requires Lady Corrin’s attention.”

            Corrin sighed and stood. Azura followed suit.

            “We’ll finish this talk later,” Corrin said, touching Azura’s forearm. Azura nodded but gave no response.

            Corrin left the room. As she went to close the door, Azura said, “Leave it open.”

            She did and then fell into step beside Gunter as he led her out of the fortress and into the courtyard.

            “A group of children got into a fight with some soldiers,” Gunter said before she could ask for an explanation.

            “Our soldiers beat up children?” Corrin demanded, stopping midstride.  

            “You misunderstand me,” Gunter said. “The soldiers lost.”

            Then Gunter continued walking, leaving Corrin to scramble after him.

 

* * *

 

            Kana wasn’t homesick. He didn’t miss home. Home meant chores and lessons and readings and recitations and trainings and scoldings and going to bed early and waking up early and not running down the long hallways even though the long hallways were the best for running and standing up straight and smiling at the mean people that came to dinner because, _“It’s polite to smile Kana and **please** stop sticking your tongue out at the Duke of Cyrkensia,” _and wearing ugly cravats that itched and ugly shoes that pinched and he’d _begged_ mama to let him go barefoot but she’d said no because he was a young gentleman and young gentlemen wore shoes and didn’t make everyone stare at their grimy toes.

            So, no, Kana wasn’t homesick. But he was peoplesick. He missed his friends and his family and he even missed mean old Jakob and the way he scrunched his nose to shout about _“decorum”_ or _“posture”_ or _“etiquette.”_ And yeah, maybe Jakob was here but he didn’t know who Kana was and there was no burning hatred in his glare, only annoyance.

            But the past wasn’t _all_ bad. Clothes were still around even though Soleil had told him that everyone in the past ran around naked and he hadn’t really believed her because if clothes weren’t in the past then why did all the old statues have clothes?

            But he was still a little worried because _he_ was fine not wearing clothes but he didn’t really want to see anyone _else_ without clothes because that might’ve been too weird like the time he’d walked in on Sophie changing and she’d shrieked at him until he’d run away with his hands over his eyes and had run into a wall and hurt his head because he couldn’t see.

            And his mama was here which was good. But it wasn’t really his mama just like it wasn’t really mean old Jakob but he really missed his mama so he sometimes he pretended that she was really his mama and that they were playing a game where she didn’t look at him or call him Kana-bean and he didn’t call her mama and whoever went the longest without noticing each other won.

            “So, on a scale of one to that time Siegbert sneezed in the face of the Wolfskin’s leader, how screwed are we?” Soleil asked. 

            Soleil said it like it was supposed to be funny but her face was nervous. Kana looked at the others and saw that they were pretty nervous too.

            Kana blinked.

            They’d been sitting for a long time. His legs hurt.

            “Probably closer to that time we lost Kana in the city,” Shigure said.

            Kana didn’t remember that but he knew it must have been really bad because they brought it up all the time whenever they were worried about getting in trouble.

            “You guys _lost_ him?” Shiro asked and it took Kana a minute to realize that Shiro hadn’t been there because he’d only recently joined their group. It felt like he’d been with them longer than a few months.

            “Uh huh,” Soleil said with a nod, “We all went with my dad and Elise for carnival but then Kana got separated somewhere along the way and we couldn’t find him anywhere so we had to go and tell his mom and she _flipped_ and… Gods Siegbert, it wasn’t _that_ bad. You look like you swallowed a frog.”          

            Kana looked at Siegbert. He didn’t agree with Soleil. Siegbert just looked pale and a little sweaty and he kept fussing with the pendant around his neck. If he’d swallowed a frog, he would’ve been all green and warty and would have been clutching at his throat instead of playing with his necklace. 

            “It wasn’t that bad for _you_ ,” Siegbert said.

            Shiro snorted.

            “I didn’t think _anything_ could be bad for you,” he said.

            Kana frowned. He didn’t want them to start fighting. He’d had enough fighting for one day without hearing Shiro and Siegbert go at it _again._

            Kana didn’t like fights. He was small and being small meant that fights didn’t end well for him. Back home, he would sometimes get into fights with the pages around the castle because they were big bullies and picked on the littler kids or the servants that couldn’t talk back and he usually lost and he always got a bloody nose or bruised knuckles but back home his mama would always tend his bruises and wipe his tears and make him promise not to do it again or she’d tell his papa but he always did it again and she never told his papa.

            “We don’t have time for another of your spats,” Soleil said. “Gunter’s coming back.”

            Kana wilted. He didn’t like Gunter. Gunter was mean and he’d broken up the fight by calling the soldiers a bunch of idiots and telling them to stay put or he’d cut their hands off and hit them with them. Now the soldiers sat across the courtyard from them, rubbing their bruises and muttering mean things. They glared at Soleil and Shiro a lot and that made sense since they’d been the ones to start the whole thing. 

            “Corrin’s with him,” Shigure said. 

            Kana perked up. Siegbert frowned but Kana couldn’t tell if he was frowning at him or in general.

            “That’s a bad thing.”

            The frown was definitely meant for Kana.

            “It might not be!” Kana protested.

            “Kid’s right,” Shiro said. “If we can get on her good side, then it’d be a lot easier to figure out what the hell’s going on.”

            Kana nodded vigorously.

            “It’d also be a lot easier to blow our cover,” Siegbert said.

            “What cover? It’s not like people are going around looking for kids from the futu—”

            “Shut up!” Soleil hissed as his mama-wait, no-Corrin approached with the old knight in tow. She looked his way and then she turned to the soldiers and yelled at them, but he couldn’t listen properly because Shiro said, “If you think about it, we probably won’t even get in trouble because they were the ones that started the whole thing by catcalling Soleil.”

            “If you hadn’t punched one in the face, maybe,” Siegbert said.

            Shiro glared at Siegbert and rubbed at his bloody knuckles but he didn’t say anything else and that was good because Kana could hear Corrin shout, “I don’t care what you thought! You attacked children and that’s reason enough for me to see you all scrubbing the stables for the rest of your lives!”

            Then, Kana heard Gunter ask, “Lady Corrin, might I suggest we talk with the children?” and then they were walking towards him and everyone got really stiff around him but Kana beamed a little because he was so excited to see his mama, even though he knew that Corrin wasn’t really his mama yet.

            “What are your names?” Corrin asked. They all spoke at once. Kana shouted to be heard over the others.

            “Whoa, one at a time!” Corrin said. Then, they introduced themselves one by one and Kana went last and said his name like it was a surprise. She smiled at him, but then seemed to think she shouldn’t because she made her face into a frown instead.

            “The soldiers say you drew swords on them?” Gunter asked.

            “Sword. Singular. Mine,” Soleil said. Then, she pointed towards the meanest of the soldiers.

            “He took it and I want it back.”

            Gunter turned and walked back to the soldiers. As he walked away, Shigure nudged Soleil in the ribs. He narrowed his eyes at her. Soleil’s thunderous expression drooped.

            “I haven’t seen you all around camp,” Corrin said.

            “We keep to ourselves,” Siegbert said. “We don’t want to get in anybody’s way.”

            “Where are your parents?” she asked.

            “Dead!” Soleil shouted and even Kana knew to glare at her for it.

            “We’ve all handled it differently,” Shigure said and Kana thought that he was probably trying very hard to not roll his eyes.

            Corrin didn’t seem convinced, but she couldn’t say anything else because Gunter was walking back over and he called Corrin to his side. He showed her the sword and then they turned their backs to him. They began to whisper, but Kana could hear them. He had good hearing.

            “I thought we weren’t distributing weapons to anyone other than the soldiers,” Corrin said. Kana watched Gunter hand her the sword.

            “We aren’t and we didn’t,” Gunter said. “This sword came from the royal forge of Nohr. Notice the seal impressed on the hilt."

            Gunter pointed to the hilt and dragged his finger around it. He said, "Only those within the king’s inner circle are granted weapons from the royal forge.”

            Corrin and Gunter turned around to look at them. Kana quickly turned his attention to a bird flying overhead. When it flapped its wings, the sun shone through its sleek feathers. Then, he heard Corrin ask Gunter, “Spies?”

            “It’s a possibility that we can’t rule out.”

            “Uh oh,” Kana said. The others looked at him, but he didn’t tell them what he’d heard. Siegbert looked like he was going to hurl. Corrin twisted the sword in her hands. 

“Wait, no. This isn’t right,” she said. “Garon’s seal has those horrendous eyes in the center of the crest. This one doesn’t.”

            Kana thought of a thousand eyes blinking in the center of the Nohrian crest and shivered.

            “Are you certain?” Gunter asked.

            “Yes,” Corrin said. “I remember how much I hated using those swords in the Northern Fortress because I felt like the eyes watched me. It’s a fake. A damn good one, but still a fake.”

            Beside him, Soleil groaned, “I’m not gonna get that back, am I?”

            “You shouldn’t have said anything,” Siegbert hissed.

            “My dad gave that to me!” Soleil whispered in protest. “And he’d be beyond pissed if I lost it.”

            “Especially since this is your fifth one,” Shigure added. She glared at him and then snapped, “I seem to recall dad having to acquire a new spear for you more than once.”

            “He had to replace them because I _broke_ them. I didn’t lose them chasing after every girl that happened to glance my way!”

            Soleil opened her mouth but she couldn’t say anything because Corrin and Gunter had turned back around and Siegbert had hissed, “Enough!” so she just glared at Shigure.

            Corrin held tight to Soleil’s sword. She looked at each of them and then asked, “Where are you from?”

            “Nohr,” Siegbert, Soleil, and Shigure said.

            “Hoshido,” Shiro said.

            Kana didn’t say anything.

            “And your parents? What did they do?”

            “They tended wheat,” Siegbert, Soleil, and Shigure said.

            “Daikon farmers,” Shiro said.

            Kana was silent again. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want Siegbert to get mad at him if he got it wrong.

            Corrin nodded, but she frowned at them.

            “Alright, follow me,” she announced. “We’re going to the arena.”

            Kana shifted to stand up, but the others didn’t move. He settled back into the dirt.

            “What? Why?” Soleil demanded.            

            “Lady Corrin’s reasons are her own,” Gunter snapped. “It is not your place to question them, only to obey.”

            Kana looked at Siegbert and Siegbert looked at Shigure and Shigure looked at Soleil and Soleil glared at Gunter and then they all looked at each other, even Shiro, and then they all stood.

            “Okay,” Soleil said, “but I want my sword back.”

            Gunter drew up to his full height and sneered. He said, “How dare you—”

            “You can have it if you tell me where you got it,” Corrin said. She held it so that the seal faced them and Kana didn’t think that was unintentional.

            Soleil glanced at Siegbert and then Siegbert nodded a little. Kana scowled. It made him a little jealous that Siegbert could talk to his friends without talking. Kana always had to talk, and talk _a lot_ , to be understood.

            “If you must know, my dad gave it to me,” Soleil said. She stuck her nose up in the air as she said it and crossed her arms.

            “And how did your wheat farming father get his hands on military grade steel?” Corrin asked.                       

            Soleil floundered.

            “I…”

            Kana was worried. He didn’t like the look on Corrin’s face because it was the same look his mama gave him when she’d figured out that he’d done something rotten. And he did a lot of rotten things so he was very used to that look.

            “There’s something about you five that I don’t trust,” Corrin said. "Five children shouldn’t be able to best seven grown men, seven trained soldiers at that, and they certainly shouldn’t be running around with steel so fine that its branded with a false king’s seal.”

            Corrin drew the sword back and ran her thumb over the seal. She said, “So, I’ll ask you again, where did you find it?’

            “She found it,” Siegbert said. “On one of the ruffians that burned our farmland and killed all our parents after the Nohrians killed him.”

            Kana nodded in wide-eyed agreement, trying to make his face look sad so that Corrin didn’t doubt Siegbert’s story. But it didn’t work.

            “The Nohrians aren’t usually in the business of killing ruffians,” Corrin said. “They much prefer to conscript them.”

            Kana could tell that what she said had upset Siegbert because Siegbert looked like a bird that had gotten its feathers ruffled but Siegbert didn’t say anything.

            “But I’ll believe you for now,” Corrin announced. Beside her, Gunter looked thunderstruck and a little angry.

            “So, follow me to the arena and don’t give me another opportunity to question your story.”

            And they did follow her, but Kana knew it was only because Siegbert went first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've taken a lot of liberties with the narration in Kana's sections. There's a lot of run on's. A lot. But it didn't feel right writing his sections in perfect prose or with big words because he's young and he's excited even when he shouldn't be. He's just too sweet tbh! Also, I HATE THE DEEPREALMS. It's sooooo shitty that couples have kids (which they should really know better than to have kids during war time when they're literally always on the battlefield but I digress) and then immediately throw them into what is essentially a trans-dimensional locker until they're "old" enough to fight alongside them which is ALSO trash but I'll end my rant here before I get to far into the rabbit hole. This story will play heavily with a multiverse so I can avoid the deeprealm nonsense and still include the children because they have a significant role to play but also I just really like them because some of them are better written/more interesting than the non-children/1st-gen/I-don't-really-know-what-to-call them/parents.


	3. Darling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corrin enjoys a celebration. Sakura goes for a nighttime stroll. Leo details his angst.

            As the music swelled around her, Corrin let it swallow her whole. Her partner, a broad-faced man who’d nearly lost his lunch when he’d asked her to dance, spun her. The faces of the dancers around her blurred. Candlelight streaked across her vision, breaking into a thousand shooting stars against the cavorting shadows. She imagined herself at the epicenter of a vortex, watching the pressures of reality fade into the forked lighting of the tempest.

            Then, her partner stepped on her foot, smashing the joint of her big toe beneath the heel of his boot and shattering her fantasy in one fell swoop. She cursed aloud and then her partner leapt away from her, backing into a couple dancing nearby. That couple then fell into another and then another until the merriment had withered and the music had dwindled to a single, prolonged, out-of-tune chord. Under so many eyes, Corrin blushed. Her foot throbbed. She began gnawing on her lip, but then thought better of it upon catching sight of Jakob in the gathered crowd. She could practically hear his reproach of, “Absolutely disgraceful!”

            “I’m so sorry!” her partner said. His throaty voice was made even more unbecoming by the gaping silence hanging above them.

            _I would hope so_ , she thought but, after a quick survey of the crowd, said, “It’s alright! If I wore shoes, it wouldn’t have even been an issue!”

            There was mingled laughter from the crowd. Tension dropped from shoulders and cringes vanished from faces. The musicians started up again. Corrin’s partner stared at her. His face was awash with panic. He looked as though he might cry. She smiled at him good-naturedly and then said, “I think I’d like to take a break.”

            He nodded vigorously and then darted from the dance floor. She sighed.

            “Poor bastard,” Kaze said, appearing beside her.

            Corrin jumped, releasing a strangled yelp. She shouted, “Don’t do that!”

            Kaze bowed his head, but the movement didn’t conceal his wry smirk.

            “Apologies.”

            Then, he led her from the swaying mass to a table tucked at the far end of the tavern. Eyes followed her as she moved through the crowd. Some nodded to her, others inclined their heads as she passed. She sat. Dozens of gazes leveled upon her. Few had the decency to lower their stares.

            _“You’re holy to them,”_ Lilith had told her once. _“You’ve given them a chance at a future they didn’t think they deserved.”_

            But Lilith was a hopeless flatterer and these people didn’t stare at her with reverence.

            _It’s more like perverted interest,_ Corrin thought as she swept an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Her fingers crested the aberrant point and then fell back into her lap. She had always known she was different, that she _looked_ different. Much of her childhood had been spent in front of mirrors, staring and imagining. She had longed of having straight blonde hair and warm violet eyes. At night, she had dreamed of talking and walking like them, of being one of them, but every morning she had awoken to a face that was never Nohrian.

            For years, she’d lived with a split life. She knew she was intrinsically different from them, but still desperately believed the lies they told her.

            They had claimed she hailed from an old noble house, one that dated back to the time of the Dusk Dragon, but no matter the hours she spent scouring the portraits of her supposed mother and father, she found no similarities in them, only unease and confusion. As the years passed, she believed them less and less.

            “Hinata’s going to get himself in trouble again,” Kaze said.

            He jerked his head to the right and, when Corrin turned, she saw the samurai arguing loudly with the bartender. From what she could hear over the cacophony, Hinata was pissed off that they still weren’t serving sake.

            “What do you mean you don’t have a good recipe?” he shouted. “All you need is rice and yeast!”

            Corrin laughed, but it was loud and barking in the cresting vibrato arising from the musicians. She said, “He’s going to get himself banned if he keeps on like that.”

            “We can only hope," Kaze said.

            Corrin rolled her eyes.

            “Well I hope not. Hinata’s fun, unlike you.”

            “You wound me,” he drawled. He took a drink from his cup. When he set it back down, she saw that it was water.

            “It would be inappropriate to get drunk on duty,” he said.

            “How many times do I have to tell you three that I don’t need a babysitter?”           

            “If it were up to me, you wouldn’t even know that I was watching you.”

            She scowled at him. Then, she turned her attention to the exposed beams overhead. She liked to watch the shadows lurch on the ceiling. Sometimes, she’d try to count how many distinct forms she could make out. It helped to calm her when the amount of people became stifling.   

            Having spent years in the company of no more than four or five people at a time, it had been a shock to exist in such a space, but, ever since it had been built, the tavern had aided her greatly in coming to grips with large crowds. She’d found she rather liked the presence of so many people.

            _It’s the anonymity,_ she thought but then, catching sight of a man staring unabashedly at her chest, amended, _It’s the illusion of anonymity._

            "Ah! Corrin!"

            A chair was pulled over, its scraping, screeching legs audible above the music, and turned around so that its back was pressed to the table. With a low sigh, Camilla straddled the seat, defying the limitations of her skintight outfit. She folded her arms over the back of the seat and then she perched her head on top of her arms. It was utterly undignified and a shade away from being hedonistic, but Camilla somehow made it look the epitome of elegance and regality.

            _If I tried that, I’d look like a failed contortionist,_ Corrin thought and then, on a passing whimsy, imagined Kaze attempting to do the same in a similar gauzy outfit. She smiled.

            “It’s so good to see you in such high spirits!” Camilla said. “I was beside myself with worry that you’d be in quite a state after that dreadful encounter with my brother in Cyrkensia earlier!”     

            And then Corrin could smell the burning town and the acrid wind of battle recently ended and she was chasing after him, believing that she could convince him.

            _Laslow and Peri stood between them, but they let her shove past. She grabbed Xander’s arm and he halted, standing so still and tense that the briefest murmur of breeze threatened to topple him. The sculpted metal of his vambraces carved divots into her skin as she clung._

_“Come with us to the Bottomless Canyon!” she cried. “If we join our forces, we can end this senseless war!”_

_For a moment, he had no response, only stood in the haze and ruin in silence. Siegfried radiated malice from his hip. She tightened her grip on his arm._

_“_ _Xander?”_

_With a sharp jerk, he tore free of her grasp. He said, “You started this war.”_

_Then, he was walking away. She couldn’t make herself follow._

            “Corrin?” Camilla asked. The clamor of the tavern drowned Corrin’s ears once more.

            “Sorry, it’s so loud in here! What’d you say?”

            Camilla repeated herself, practically shouting. Corrin forced a laugh. She said, “I’d nearly forgotten all about that, what with our victory and the celebration and everything.”

            Camilla nodded, but, before she could respond, a soldier Corrin had seen her flirting with approached and then bent down to whisper in her ear. She touched her hand to the side of his head. Her smile turned devilish. When he drew away, she rose and announced, “You’ll have to excuse me, darling. Something’s come up that needs my attention.”

            “Of course, I’ll talk to you later!” Corrin said with a smile. Then, she watched the crowd devour Camilla. It had only been a few weeks since Camilla had joined their ranks, but it felt like it had been forever. She treated Corrin the same way she always had, refusing to acknowledge the strangeness that had grown between them during their separation.

            Corrin turned from the crowd to ask Kaze about the jaunty Hoshidian tune that had started up, but fell short at his expression.

            His stare sliced her into pieces. It saw into the fears that haunted her mind. It stirred the stress that lay coiled in her chest. It told her everything she couldn’t admit about herself.

            Kaze had witnessed the aftermath of her interaction with Xander. He’d watched her adrenaline plummet until she’d been left with nothing but clawing despair in her belly. He’d watched her shake until she’d crumpled. He’d watched her sob until she couldn’t breathe. He’d watched her rage until she was numb.

 _He knows I'm weak,_ Corrin thought.

            Suddenly, the tavern was too small and the air was too thin. The dancers pushed in around the table. One of them cackled at an unheard joke. Another brushed against her arm as he passed. She shuddered. 

            “Stop staring at me,” she commanded in a tight voice.

            Kaze stared a moment longer and then his eyes shifted to the unruly mob. As he watched them in silence, Corrin sat very still and very cold. She felt much smaller than she had in a long time.

 

* * *

   

            When Sakura was nine years old, Mikoto had taken her by hand into the garden. They ate beneath budding cherry blossoms, the very same ones for which she had been named, and she was so happy to be spending the day with her. She was still a horribly shy child, but Mikoto encouraged her to speak her mind and she did. She really did.

            They talked about her studies, how she liked some tutors better than others, how she was making strides in calligraphy, but suffering in arithmetic, how the shrine maidens had approached her a week ago to suggest she consider pursuing a life of medicine and devotion.

            They talked about her siblings, how Takumi had been cruel to her the day before but he had apologized and played with her for hours afterward, how Hinoka had taken her to the stables to see the pegasi, how Ryoma had promised to read with her later that day, how Azura was teaching her to sing. There was no progress, and never would be, but she loved to listen to the older girl sing and so she pretended that someday she might do the same.

            They talked about the coming spring, how it was almost upon them, how beautiful it was already, how soon there'd be spring festivals to hold and attend, how wonderful the birdsongs were overhead.

            They talked about Corrin. It had started innocently enough, a poorly worded question on her part, a solemn response from Mikoto, and then, "Sakura, do you miss your sister?"

            She hadn't known how to respond. How could she miss someone she had little memory of?

            Sometimes, she thought she remembered a bright smile, gentle hands, a quiet laugh, but other times she was certain those were memories she'd stolen from her siblings. When she thought of her missing sister, she thought of someone that was softer than Hinoka and more honest than Azura, but she could never picture a face. They told her, of course, what the missing princess looked like, but it never took. Corrin was a shadow in her thoughts.

            Even now that she knew what Corrin looked like, sometimes, she still saw shadows. And sometimes, those shadows flooded her sister's face, jagged and angular, emphasizing her ruby eyes and pointed ears when she thought no one was watching her.

            But she didn't look scary. Just distant, thinking about things that no one else would understand.

            Now, with a delicate curve of her wrist, Sakura finished off her sentence and stared down at her work. The ink had a liquid sheen in the candle light. When it had dried, she closed the cover and ran her finger along the imprint on the front. The gold foil shaping the kanji of her name had long since faded, but it was beautiful in its age.

            On many occasions back home in Shirasagi, she'd attempted journaling but never quite got into the routine. She'd journal every night for weeks and then would cease for months.

            Now, the pages were nearly full. There was an entry from every day since the outbreak of the war, over a year ago. Before, journaling had been an attempted hobby. Now, it seemed to be all that kept her from going insane. She spoke more and more each day because she had to _,_  but she said less and less. There only seemed so much she could say to the stream of wounded she healed.

            The battles were the worst. There was nothing to be said about them.

            She stretched, open palmed, towards the ceiling, and felt the tension break, relief settling into her shoulders. She wondered at the time and peered through her window, up at the endless sky. The stars shone strong and unblemished, not unlike the Hoshidian night sky but here they were suppler, virgin and unseen. The moon balanced high in the sky. She let the starlight fill her eyes. 

            _Ten o’clock?_ she thought.

            Humming to herself, she returned her journal to its place on the shelf and then began to undo her bed, preparing to sleep. As she fluffed her pillow, a knock sounded twice in rapid succession. If the candle had been extinguished, she might not have answered, would have pretended to be asleep, but it burned bright. She opened the door.

            "Sister," Takumi said.

            She responded quietly in kind and then he asked, "Care for a walk?"

            His tone suggested it was not much of a question.

            Timidly, she responded, "I was getting ready for bed."

            "Walk with me."

            Her lips pulled towards the right, but she blew out her candle.

            Takumi led her out of the fortress and into the cold night. They walked side by side though not shoulder to shoulder. She lagged only slightly, the tip of her toes traveling adjacent to his instep. For a while, they walked in silence, listening to the stirrings of nighttime, the celebration coming from the tavern, the whisper of the wind. She stared at the side of his face, saw the tension around his eyes. When he spoke, she lengthened her stride.

            "Ryoma was in Cyrkensia today."

            "Oh," she said, "Nobody told me."

            Her heart hurt. She hadn't been that far from the front lines. She could have made it to see him.

            The thoughts came unbidden, one after the other.

_Didn't he want to see me? Why didn't anyone tell me? Does he think I'm a traitor?_

            They caught in her chest. She'd never considered before that Ryoma disapproved of her decision, just assumed it was only a matter of time before Ryoma joined himself, that he was only biding his time.

_But he called Corrin a traitor and I'm with Corrin now._

            But Takumi was here now and Saizo and Kagero too. They'd been here for a while.

            _Does Ryoma think we’re all traitors?_

            "I'm telling you now," Takumi said.

            He stopped walking. They'd looped back around so that they stood before the steps of the fortress again. The steps were a nice place to sit and enjoy the sunlight, or moonlight. Takumi stared up at the fortress now, eyes hooded and endless.

            "Did you talk to him?" she asked.

            His head whipped towards her.

            "What?"

            "D-did you talk to Ryoma?" she asked again.

            The stammer was minimal but embarrassing all the same. She focused on her knuckles.

            "Just barely," he answered.

            His fists clenched, unclenched, and then he sat on the steps, legs splayed. Propping his elbow just above his knee, he leaned over it, holding up his head with a knuckle beneath his jaw. His dark eyes were pointed to the sky. Starlight swirled in the sticky amber of them. She sat beside him.

            "By the time I got there, the Hoshidian army was in full retreat," Takumi said. "We talked for a couple minutes. He asked how you were. Said he'd see me again soon."

            "He's going to j-join us?" she asked.

            The excitement caught in her throat. Takumi shrugged. He muttered, "I guess."

            "You don't seem happy about that," she said quietly.

            Takumi looked directly at her. He seethed, "He should be with us  _now._ "

            "I want him here too.”

            "No that's not what I mean. Corrin didn't say two words to Ryoma. She ran off after that damn Nohrian."

            "Oh," she said. She knew which Nohrian he was referring to without him having to say it. There were a lot of them but there was only one whose name made Corrin's eyes burn and mist at the same time.

            "If she'd just talked to him, he'd be here," Takumi said. "She would have convinced him."

            "Why didn't you convince him?"

            The accusation was unintended, but it was there. Her fingers curled against the smooth jut of her knee.

            "I tried!" he cried. "I tried but all he wanted to do was talk to Corrin."

            His voice trailed off, dejected. He stared outwards.

            _He’s too still,_ she thought, staring at the motionlessness etched into his being. He was never still, always fidgeting, moving his fingers, tapping his toes,  _something_. The only time he was ever still was when he was firing the Fujin Yumi or hurting. And right now, he was hurting bad.

            She wanted to hug him, wanted to hold her older brother and let him know that she loved him, but didn't. She was too shy, too scared of his rejection. All she could do was be with him. It wasn't much but, for the moment, it seemed to be enough.

 

* * *

 

             _Two weeks have passed since Camilla and the forces she commanded turned traitor as I’m sure you’re well aware. The firestorm left in her wake has yet to be calmed. Questions of my father’s rule, health, and sanity have arisen but he does not address them. Protests and riots have torn through the heart of Nohr, demanding that he abdicate his rule. At least three avaricious Lords have recalled their troops from the field and sent them against the capital. But, still, my father makes no effort to defend himself. His sole concern is the absolute conquest of Hoshido. And so, at Xander’s behest, I have played courier and, within the past two weeks, I have run the circuit of noble estates. At each, I remind them of the many annexations made and the spoils reaped under my father’s rule and boast of the great boon the conquest of Hoshido will bring._

            _But there has been no boon,_ Leo wrote with a flourish. _Only blood spread across the countryside._

The wet ink glistened in the candle light. Leo leaned back in his chair, staring out the window at the city below. Twilight was settling across Windmire. Lanterns blazed through curtained windows and smoke rose in slow curls from chimneys.

            Windmire was at peace.

            Leo was not.

            The past two weeks had been nothing short of hell. His body throbbed from the pains of extensive horseback riding and bruises not yet faded. His eyelids drooped with exhaustion. His mind was a churning tempest of unease and worry.

            Time had become a torment. It marched on and on without reprieve to those that struggled to survive its eternal grinding. Each ticking second brought Nohr closer to civil war.

            _The end of the nation,_ Leo thought as he imagined the bloodshed and chaos generated from the noble houses turned against one another. His thoughts invigorated his quill and then he set to fervidly penning another paragraph.

            _Corrin, what is your aim? You’ve bested the army at every battle and converted more troops and civilians to your cause than you’ve killed. Hoshido ravages our borders as more troops defect. Is this not enough?  Will you not rest until all of Nohr has paid for the sins of my father? Your aim so confuses me that I’ve turned to scrying for answers but the spirits refuse to speak of “the devil that has torn the house of the king asunder.” Your betrayal is so poignant that even my ancestors have felt it._

Sometime after Izumo, addressing Corrin had become his solace. It soothed the knot of trauma that weighed on his throat and allowed him to think of things that he could not afford to in every other instance. The pages of Corrin’s journal that had lain empty were now full of verbose, daily accounts and heated accusations. Now, as he scrawled, his words turned rabid.

_Do you know what hell you’ve wrought? Do you know that Elise has been sent to the eastern front? Xander believes she will be safest there, in the middle of a damned battlefield, because the tensions here are so great. Do you know that he had to designate an entire regiment for the sole purpose of finding and extraditing Camilla? If she’s found, he’ll have to execute her himself. Do you know that neither of us can leave our chambers without the company of at least eight veterans of the King’s Guard? Do you know that father has taken to bea—_

His fingers still clung fast to the quill but the word went unfinished.The fresh bruise staining his cheek throbbed. The notion to detail the long reaching consequences of Corrin’s betrayal left him as quickly as it had come.

            A yawn overcame him and then he released it with little grace. His study twisted around him. He blinked it back into focus and then dragged his free hand across his face, staring at his haggard reflection in the windowpane.

            _When was the last time I slept the whole night through?_ he thought.

            Too often, he found himself awakened by a severe ache in his chest or a pang of cold through his spine and then would spend the rest of the night imagining shapes in the dark and wishing for sleep to take him.

            It never did. It laid in wait until his waking hours. So, now, as he scribbled hastily on the empty pages of a threadbare journal that didn’t belong to him, it came to claim him with sweet peace and honeyed dark.

            His head bobbed once, twice, then he jerked awake in alarm. Blinking sleep from his eyes, he stared at the paper beneath his pen and the weeping slash he had accidentally emblazoned across the neat paragraph he had written. For a moment more, he stared at the ruined entry and then seized the paper in a single, strong pull. The page tore from its binding but it took crucial threads with it.

            The journal fell apart.

            “Damn it!” he cursed. He beat his fists against the table over and over. The jolting percussion of his fists persisted until his eyes grew hot. Hands falling still, he squeezed his eyelids, praying for the heat to recede. Several boiling tears escaped the confines of his eyelids and snaked across the planes of his face.

            "Leo."

            Jerking upright, Leo swiped an arm across his eyes. He stood from his chair. He said, "Ah, Xander. I was wondering when you might return from Cyrkensia. Did you stop off in Nestra again? It must truly be—"

            Leo finally turned. His ramblings fell short. Xander stood just inside the doorway, flanked by two of the King's Guard. His face was dour. His stare was solemn.

            Leo scowled.

            "Brother, what is the meaning of this?”

            “The king has ordered your execution."

            The words raked across Leo’s chest. He took a shambling step backwards, banging the backs of his thighs against his desk. Disbelief wracked his body. He struggled to speak over it. When he managed, it was a booming demand for an explanation, much more boisterous than he felt.

            "On what grounds?"

            The two King's Guards moved in unison at his outburst and drew tomes with great speed. Xander calmed them with the flat of his hand.

            "Izumo."

            As horror began to steep in his veins, Leo stared at the King’s Guards, knowing them both as the most powerful mages the King’s Guard had to offer.

            _Any minor hex or glamour I could conjure without a tome might catch Xander, but it won’t even phase them._  

            "You let Corrin go," Xander said. "He's commanded me to bring you before him."

            Leo did not ask how his father had discovered his transgression. His thoughts fixated on the dull hum of power emanating from atop the chaise lounge in the corner and just how quickly he could reach it.

            He raised his right hand as if he intended to ward them off. It was more pathetic than it was intimidating. His fingers shook.

            Leo was painfully aware of the proximity of Xander’s fingers to Siegfried. Sweat cropped up across his body. He could only think, _Does he intend to strike me down himself?_

            And then, _What will he tell Elise?_

            Leo had never been frightened by his brother. His brother played hide-and-seek and hated the dark and shied away from crowds and attended too many bad plays and tried to read all the same things as Leo and sat still as Elise threaded flower crowns through his hair and liked her dogwood flower crowns best of all and he’d lied about being able to kill Corrin.

            _But that was just as the war had broken out, when he was still himself,_  Leo thought. _He’s been the Crown Prince for too long._

            "Brother, this is madness,” Leo said.

            He raised his left hand in a configuration for casting, his pointer and middle finger splayed and taut above the other bent fingers. His entire hand shook.

            Xander said nothing. He grabbed Siegfried instead.

            Leo cast a glamour of darkness and then lurched towards Brynhildr, concealed in the black. His fingers brushed the cover just as the glamour was dispelled. Light flooded the study once more. The King’s Guards vanished within a mass of roots. Blood sprayed the walls in a fine mist.

            On bended knee and panting, Leo cemented his grip on Brnyhildr, laying his palm firmly across its weathered binding.

            “Don’t make this harder than it must be," Xander said.

            Leo sighed.

            He stood and drew himself to his full height, just below eye-level with Xander. His stance was confident. His mind made up. Without turning, he said, “I’ve always wondered which of us would prevail against the other.”

            He heard Xander move towards him. He closed his eyes, letting Brynhildr take full force of his being, sapping strength and mind alike. As the roots broke through the stone beneath him, Leo said, “But that’ll have to wait.”

            Then, he was falling through the dark, barely conscious and without any idea of what came next. He knew that he was now a fugitive and that leaving his brother alive was a horrible mistake of his bleeding heart and that every mage within a ten-mile radius would have felt the massive burst of magic that he’d unleashed.

            _I can only hope that Odin isn’t too busy playing make believe to notice,_ Leo thought as the floors rushed past him. When he slammed into stone three stories below, the dark came too fast for him to have any parting thoughts and so he laid, prone and unconscious and completely at the mercy of whichever mage reached him first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Leo falls into a deep, dark hole. Literally AND metaphorically.  
> Allow me a moment to vent about how I completely forgot that Hinoka does not join the party until the whole lava fields adventure and how I had to rewrite Corrin's entire section TWICE because Hinoka played a very big role in the first rewrite (this being the second) but then I realized she SHOULDN'T BE THERE. A similar issue of a character erroneously being present happened FOUR TIMES as I worked on revisions for the next chapter. It's MADDENING. But it's all spick and span now and nobody makes strange cameos anymore lol


	4. Best Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura makes a friend. Corrin toils in the garden. Kana disrespects the sacred rules of the library.

            It was late into the day and Sakura sat in the arena. In front of her, Hana fought another samurai. Her opponent was much older and more experienced, but Hana dispatched him with ease. She grinned at Sakura and Sakura forced herself to grin back. It had not been a good day thus far.

            Two weeks had passed since the battle in the Port Town of Dia. Two weeks had passed since the arrival of the youngest Nohrian heir.

            Elise had made quite an impression on the camp. She was charming and expressive and confident and extraordinary and perfect and everyone absolutely adored her. With her in camp, anyone who hadn't already forgotten about Sakura, did.

            Ahead of her, Hana shook hands with her sparring partner. A joke passed between them and Sakura could hear Hana’s chirp of a laugh from where she sat.

            Sakura smiled, but, in truth, she was incredibly bored. She'd never had any interest in watching people fight, but Hana was her best friend and so she showed her support by pretending to watch her retainer duel every Thursday afternoon. As Hana's second duel of the day began, Sakura loosed her eyes to wander.

            The arena buzzed with activity. Everywhere she turned, there was a farm boy hacking away at a straw dummy, a sniper trying to line up an impossible shot, or a mage chanting spells from the pages of a well-worn tome, and the entire place stank of feet. 

            Her brother spent most of his time before the target range, firing arrow after arrow. As she drug her gaze to the range, she caught sight of a pegasus knight shaking a mist of sweat from their greasy hair and cringed.

            _How can he stand it here?_ she thought. She pictured her brother looping round and round the arena on the dirt track. Every day, he braved the stink and the sweat and the arrogance of everyone showing off their strength and skill at the expense of those around them. She shifted her faze to the archery range. Takumi was nowhere to be seen,

            _Is he with Corrin?_ Sakura thought, but then she shook the thought away. Corrin had been spending all her time with the knight-commander she’d recruited from Dia.

            Sakura should have known his name, but she didn't. The air was always abuzz with his name, especially in conjunction with Corrin’s, but she’d never bothered to latch onto it.

            The knight-commander made her uneasy. All the Nohrians did with their strong noses and their solemn, dour prayers

            Across the arena, Ryoma's retainers were trying to outdo each other up again. They never spoke to one another while they did it, just stood side by side, obliterating dummy after dummy with their razor-sharp shurikens. The display was oddly comforting.            

            _I wonder what Ryoma’s doing right now,_ she thought.

            She closed her eyes and then pictured him hunched over a stack of paper, scribbling like it was the last chance he’d ever get. She imagined him lying down his quill to look up with a forced frown to question, “How long have you been spying, little sister?” and then he’d smile, suggesting, “Let’s go for a walk. I’m not meant to be cooped up like this!”  

            _Does he miss me?_

            She wanted to think so but doubt swirled on her tongue. It was bitter.  

            _He didn’t try to see me in Cyrkensia._

The thought hurt too much so she tried to swallow it but it lingered.

            "Wow!"

            Sakura's head whipped towards the sound. Nearby, a broad-shouldered boy leaned against his spear. His eyes were wide as he watched Kagero with rapt attention, mouth agape. Beside him, a fair-haired boy sparred with a grinning girl. Their swords clashed again and again but it was clear, even from what little Sakura knew of swordplay, the girl was going to win. A blue haired boy watched the bout with a lazy expression. A small boy sat at his feet, drawing pictures in the dirt.

            Again, the boy with the spear said, “Wow!”

            She stared at him, trying to place why he looked so familiar. He turned his head and his eyes darted to meet hers. She blushed. He scowled. His broad fingers rubbed at his neck. He looked the other way.

 _Shiro,_  Sakura thought, staring at the back of his scruffy head. Her eyes bounced to each of his friends and then she rattled off, _Soleil and Siegbert and Shigure and Kana._

For a time, Subaki’s daily gossip had centered around the group of teenagers when they’d been the talk around the camp. They’d faded into obscurity long before Corrin’s relationship with the knight-commander dominated the gossip, but Sakura remembered.

            The group was frequently paying visits to the infirmary to change bandages or clean the dirtied sheets. From what she understood, it served as punishment for their escapades around camp, though she’d never actually asked them if that was truly the case. They were mostly helpful, except for Soleil who was so clumsy that Sakura had forbade her from setting foot in the infirmary again, but there was something about them that Sakura didn’t like, something familiar yet foreign all at once.

            “Aha! I've been looking all over for you!”

            Sakura jumped. She slapped her hand against her chest, fingers splayed. Breathing heavily, she turned towards the voice that had nearly stopped her heart.

            Elise thundered towards her, curling ponytails trailing behind her. Dust erupted from the ground as Elise skidded to a halt. With delicate fingers, she smoothed down the black ruffles of her skirt and then stared expectantly at Sakura. Sakura realized she was expected to respond.

            "Looking… looking for me?" she said. Elise beamed.

            "Of course!" she said.

            "Why?" Sakura asked. 

            “Corrin said we'd make good friends!”

            Sakura frowned.

            "She… she did?"

            Elise nodded. Her ponytails boinged. Then, her bottom lip jutted and she said, "Everyone is always saying 'Go play with someone your own age' or 'I'm too busy Elise! Bother someone else!'”

            "I'm sure they don’t… I’m sure they don’t say that.”

            Elise shrugged.

            "Not exactly, but I can take a hint."

            Then, she sat next to Sakura. Elise said, "Corrin and Camilla are the only ones who don't tell me that but Camilla's been so crabby—”

            Elise pulled her vowels long like taffy.

            “And Corrin’s _always_ with Silas."

            Sakura watched Elise fold her hands beneath her chin and then lean over the latticework of fingers. The gentle midday light made the Nohrian princess' unblemished skin glow and her lavender eyes nearly transparent. The curve of her face was gentle and soft. She turned to Sakura and said,"This is so  _boring._ "

            Sakura laughed aloud and then covered her mouth with her hand as a blush flared.

            Elise frowned. She asked, "If you think it's boring too, then why are you here?"

            "That's my retainer," Sakura said, pointing to Hana. Elise let loose a gasp as Hana executed an effortless parry and then used the momentum to surge forward and disarm her opponent.

            "Wow," Elise cried, "She's amazing!"

            Sakura smiled.

            "My retainer's over there," Elise announced and she pointed to a mountain of a woman who dwarfed the men buzzing about her. The woman dragged solid metal blocks behind her as she jogged around the arena. She moved easily and fluidly.

            _Does she know those weigh three hundred pounds?_ Sakura wondered as she watched the woman bank a turn. A cloud of dust erupted in her wake.

            "Effie's really strong," Elise said. Sakura only nodded. Then, they sat in silence, watching their respective retainers.

            "Okay, so I'm about to fall asleep," Elise announced. "Let's go do something!"

            Sakura stared at her as her brain fervidly conjured reasons for her having to stay put.

            “Oh! I know! Let’s go to the hot springs! Have you been there?”

            Sakura hadn’t, though she’d been meaning to. Takumi had said they were amazing, almost as good as the ones in Shirasagi. The only thing stopping her was that she hadn’t had anyone to go with. Still, she was hesitant to be in Elise’s company. She said, “I don’t know—”

            “Oh, come on! It’ll be lots of fun! Please Sakura?”

            Sakura looked helplessly to Hana, but Hana was distracted by her duel. Sakura was on her own. And without a decent excuse.

            “Okay, I guess we can—”

            “Yay!” Elise squealed. She leapt to her feet, grabbed Sakura’s hand, and yanked her up in the same fashion. Then, Elise was tearing for the exit saying, “Oh, this is going to be so great! We’re gonna soak and we’re gonna talk and we’re gonna get to know each other and be the best of friends and oh! You’ll just have to go with me to visit this seamstress I met the other day! She made me the cutest little dress and—"

            Sakura sighed.

            _At least I’m not going to have to think of much to say,_ she thought as she followed reluctantly behind the other girl as Elise blabbed on and out of the arena.

 

* * *

 

            Corrin stared at the bulb in her hands. Its roots poked at her palm and a sprig of green peeked out from its tip. She laid it into the small hole she’d dug and then scooped loose dirt over top. Its jagged crowd disappeared beneath the earthen shroud.

            Elise had said it was a tulip. Corrin didn’t know how she could be sure.

            _They’re all the same until they bloom,_ Corrin thought but it was an echo of something someone else had said. It might have been Leo. She couldn’t remember now.

            Rocking back, Corrin swiped away the sweat clinging to her forehead.

            From across the burgeoning flower bed, Silas chuckled softly. She scowled at him. He removed his gardening glove and then leaned forward. With his thumb, he brushed at her brow, clearing the dirt that she hadn’t known was there. Then, he pulled away. Her skin tingled in the absence of his touch. He didn’t seem to notice her blush.

            _Or he’s too kind to say anything,_ Corrin thought.

            She pretended to be incredibly interested in digging a hole for the next bulb.

            She wore no gloves. Her pale hands were covered in a film of dirt.

            As she tucked the bulb snug into its new dirt bed, she thought of the garden she’d cultivated in the Northern Fortress beneath the towering pines. Each year, Elise had amassed an arsenal of seeds for her. When the frost had receded and the ice had melted, Corrin had planted them all in neat little rows and watered them diligently until every year, without fail, a cold snap killed every single one. And every year, Leo had laughed and said something like, _“The cold is doing you a favor. Now you don’t have to stomach the guilt of having killed them yourself”_ or _“Peonies are so last year”_ and every year she had hid her smile because she hadn’t wanted him knowing that he’d made her feel better and then holding it over her for the rest of his visit.

Corrin sat back and squinted into the sky. As she stared, a perfectly plump cloud drifted over the sun, dousing the world in cool shade. She tried to wonder at the time. She thought instead, _I hope you’re alright, Leo._

            When the cloud had passed, Corrin turned her attention to Silas. He stared at her.

            “You’ve only done four,” he said.

            “What?”

            He pointed at her half of the flower bed.

            “In the past week, we’ve planted many flower beds," he said. "Under normal circumstances, you would be done your share by now. And I only know because you’re usually telling me to hurry up by the time I plant my seventh.”

            Corrin glanced at his side of the dirt and saw ten rounded steeples of dirt.

            “You’re worried about Leo.”

            She scowled.

            “Or trying very hard _not_ to worry about him.”

            For a moment, she thought about telling him the truth. She thought about admitting how scared she was for her old friend, how confused she was by the circumstances of his death warrant, how their encounter in Izumo was always in her thoughts, always poking holes into her resolve, how, when Elise had told her between sobs what the new recruits had told her, it had taken every bit of steel in her spine to keep from crying.

            But she didn’t.

            “It just doesn’t make any sense,” she said.

            “No, it doesn’t.”

            Corrin returned her attention to the flowers. She dug another hole and, as she took another bulb from the meager pile, Silas said, “You know, I was assigned to Xander’s regiment when the war first broke out.”

            She covered the bulb with a thick layer of dirt and thought of the mornings she’d been awoken before dawn for training sessions with the Crown Prince that always left her with stiff limbs and nasty bruises.

            “I’m sorry.”

            Silas laughed. Corrin started another hole. As she dug, he spoke. His voice was thick.

            “Oh, it was miserable. Forced runs at dawn, surprise drills at any moment, the works. But anyway, I was named his third in command and then second in command, after she died, but I like to think I was pretty close with him.”

            There was something awry in her chest, something like a bird with a broken wing fluttering within her ribcage. Her fingers froze in their digging.            

            “But, and maybe I should have said this earlier," Silas said, "but maybe Elise is just confused about the whole thing because it's just hard to believe he would turn on his family like that.”

            The feeling had twisted into a twinge of annoyance. She said, “I get that you respect him but—"

            “No, no you don’t understand,” Silas interrupted. Corrin bit her lip and then retrieved a bulb, squeezing it tight.

            “It’s more than just that," he said. "He talked about them. Never around everyone but he did to me sometimes.”

            She stuck the bulb into the ground, driving it deep into the loose dirt.

            “He told me how worried he was about all of them and how pissed off he was that the king sent Elise out into the field and when Camilla joined you, he was a wreak.”

            She hesitated, fingers buried in the soft dirt. A beetle poked its pinchers out from beneath the seated bulb. It scuttled across the soil. Its inky carapace glittered. It stopped in its trek just before her finger. Its antennae quivered and then it arced back down into the earthen depths, willingly smothering itself within the mulched dirt.

            She looked up at Silas. He hadn’t seen the beetle. He continued talking.  

            “I just can’t see how the person that always talked his _genius_ brother and how it was only a matter of time before Leo changed civilization as we know it, I don’t see how that same person could issue the order for his execution.”

            “People change,” Corrin said, heaping dirt into the hole. She resumed biting her lip. Her back ached from hunching over the garden.

            “I know that and I’m not saying I understand him more than you do—”

            _I don’t think I ever understood him,_ she thought as she scratched at the ground to make room for the next bulb. When she drew her hands away, she scowled at the dirt collected beneath her nails.  

            “And I just," Silas said, "maybe I wouldn’t be thinking this if we hadn’t talked about you.”

            The sun melted behind a thin cloud. Diluted golden rays shone through, but the warmth that normally accompanied them was diminished.

“I brought you up once. Out of pure selfishness and I asked him, I told him—”

            Corrin stared at Silas and wondered if maybe she hadn’t imagined the nervousness with which he addressed her sometimes, or the times he’d brushed his hand against hers and let it linger, or the teasing that could have been mistaken by passerby as gentle flirtation, or the reservoir of unspoken emotion within his eyes. She definitely hadn’t imagined her own lingering glances and the excitement that fluttered beneath her skin at the thought of spending time with him.

            His eyes darted away from hers. His face dusted pink. Heat welled in her face and then she dug out the dirt from beneath her fingernails and tried very hard not to glance his way until he’d recovered.

            “I told him _things_ and he told me things and anyway, I was given my own command soon after that and Elise was assigned to me and it wasn’t long before the orders came down, from Xander, to move on Dia.”

            She had no response. The butterflies that had danced in her chest from his expression had died. She wanted him to drop the subject, but she didn’t know how to suggest doing so without snapping at him. She was far too tense.

            Silas didn’t seem to notice. He said, “And I just haven’t been able to stop thinking that somehow he _knew_ you would be there and that’s why he sent me.”

            _If he knew,_  Corrin thought, _then_ _he sent you to kill me, not join me._

            “I wish I shared your conviction," she said.

            “All I’m saying is that I’ve either been played for a complete fool or maybe he’s not as heartless as everyone thinks.”

            _The former is much more likely,_ she thought but said, “So then why would Elise’s connections tell her that he named the price for their brother’s head? You think she misheard?”

            She focused her attention on the ground beneath her hands. She dug out a new hole.

            “No, I’m not saying that at all. I just think maybe it’s not what it seems.”

            Corrin snatched another bulb and then slammed it down into the fresh dirt. She imagined the submerged beetle veering violently off course from the harsh vibrations she’d caused. She sighed loudly.

            “I appreciate you trying to make me feel better but it’s really only making me feel worse," she said. 'I think we’ve all been duped and I think Leo’s going to die and I think it’s..."

            _All my fault._

“I think it’s pointless to sit around thinking about it.”

            Silas sighed. He put his gardening glove back on.

            “Just promise me one thing,” he said. 

            “What’s that?” she asked.

            “Promise me you’ll talk to someone, it doesn’t have to be me, but please talk to someone about all this.”

            _Nobody else needs to be bothered,_ she thought, but she said, “Sure.”

            She reached for another bulb. As she drowned it in dirt, she banished the thought entirely from her mind.

 

* * *

 

            There was a spider crawling across the floor. It trundled for the bookshelves and then began to climb the dusty spines. Kana tried to imagine the little spider footprints it left behind and he began to wonder what a spider’s foot might look like. Did they have toes or was it more of a hoof situation?

            “Kana, gods, are you even listening?”

            Kana jumped and turned, wide eyed, to Siegbert. He had not been listening but Siegbert didn’t really need to know that so he said, “Yes!”

            “What did I just say?”

“That’s easy! You just said—”

            He wrinkled his brow and glared a little to mimic Siegbert’s frown.

            “Kana, gods, are you even listening?”

            Siegbert huffed and rubbed at his forehead. When he was little, Kana used to think that Siegbert rubbed at his forehead because he always had a headache, but now he knew that Siegbert rubbed at his forehead because he was always stressed or nervous, but Kana also thought sometimes, maybe being stressed and nervous all the time gave Siegbert a headache so maybe it was both reasons instead of one or the other.  

            “We’re looking for anything that has to do with history,” Siegbert said. He talked slower than he did before. “It can be the history of Nohr or Hoshido or Valla—”

           Kana hated when he said that word, not Nohr because he lived there but the other word. The V word. Kana hated when _anyone_ said that word. Or the A word. The one that rhymed with comatose, which actually happened to be one of his most favorite words because it sounded very cool and it sucked that it rhymed with such a bad thing.

           He hated the words because they’d killed the man that’d brought them here. Kana had watched the nice guy with the blue hair who’d offered them the chance to save the world disintegrate into a pool of neon sludge because he’d said all the words and explained what they meant and Kana was so scared that Siegbert was going to turn into a goopy puddle, but Corrin had said the V word _and_  the A word at one of the war councils, which Kana wasn’t supposed to attend but he snuck into anyway because he liked to know what was going on even if they did scare him a little bit, so Siegbert thought it was safe to say the words too and maybe it was safe, but Kana really didn’t like him taking the risk and—

           “Kana!”

           Kana jerked ramrod straight at Siegbert’s frustration. Then, before Siegbert could accuse him of not paying attention, he whined, “Can’t I look for books about amputations instead? Amputations are cool.” 

            He was going through a phase. Plus, he wasn’t wrong. Amputations _are_ cool.

            “No Kana. You cannot look for books about amputations.”

            Siegbert sounded mad.   

            “Lay off the kid!” Shiro shouted from a few shelves over. “He’s not wrong about amputations.”

            Kana grinned triumphantly at Siegbert. Siegbert frowned. 

            “Look, if you find a couple history books then you can look for all the books about amputations that you want.”

            “Really?" Kana asked. "You promise?”

            “Yes.”

            “Pinky promise?”

            Kana held out his pinky. He was young. Pinky promises were still as good as legally binding to him. Siegbert held up his hand and wrapped his pinky around Kana’s.

            “Pinky promise.”

            Siegbert lowered his hand. Kana beamed.

            “Great!” Kana said. 

            Then, Kana turned to the shelf and began to read the spines but he had to wipe the dust off of them and that made his nose ticklish and his eyes water so he only looked at ten before he got annoyed with the dust and gave up.

            When Siegbert had his back turned, Kana darted from the aisle and ran to the window. He smushed his nose against the glass and pressed his hands to the window on either side of his head. Just across the path from the library, Corrin was planting flowers around the temple.

            She was always doing nice things around camp. Yesterday, she’d built new stalls in the market and cooked in the mess hall and the day before that she’d helped teach the kids how to swim and even though he already knew how to swim he’d gone to the lake anyway and he really wished he could go train in the arena when she did but he'd tried and she'd kicked him out because she said he was too young and he’d pouted and told her that his papa had already started training him and _he_ didn’t think he was too young but she wouldn’t listen and nobody had even tried to convince her otherwise.

            There was someone helping Corrin and Kana was a little jealous because _he_ wanted to help her plant flowers but he’d already asked and Siegbert had said no and he’d tried asking Shigure because sometimes Shigure let him do things so long as he didn’t tell Siegbert that he’d let him do something but Shigure had said no too because they needed him and didn’t he remember the last time he’d helped Corrin around the camp and how he’d been so upset afterwards because she wasn’t really his mama? And Kana knew exactly what Shigure meant but he was still mad that he couldn’t go.

            He didn’t want to be in the crummy archives looking for crummy history books! He had had enough history back home. What did it matter if he knew all the kings of yore? They were all dead anyway. Besides, most of the books were so old that they spelled simple things funny and Kana had always gotten poor marks on his spelling exercises back home when things were spelled the right way!

            “Hey squirt.”

            Kana frowned. Then, he turned. Shiro poked around the corner of the stack. He beckoned Kana closer and pressed a heavy book into his hands. Kana squinted at the cover.

            “Beheadings and Berserkers?” Kana read.

            Shiro nodded and tapped the cover.

            “You like amputations?" Shiro asked. "You’re gonna _love_ that.”

            Kana opened the book. An illustration of a headless knight spanned an entire page. There was a fountain of blood sprouting from his neck where his skull should’ve been. Kana had never been so grossed out and absolutely fascinated in his life. He beamed.

            “Thanks, Shiro!”

            “No problem,” Shiro said. He rubbed at his neck and turned back to the shelves. Kana wandered away, flipping through the increasingly gory images. He didn’t pay attention to where he was walking until it was too late. A hand swooped down to snatch the book from him.

            “What’ve you got there?” Soleil asked. She closed the book, paying no mind to his place within it, looked at the title, and scowled. He crossed his arms and pouted while he waited for her to finish.

            “This is really graphic,” she said.

            Then, she stretched up on her tip toes and tucked the book high away.

            “Hey! No fair!” Kana shouted. He jumped up, but his waving arms were too far away.

            “Would your mom let you read that?” Soleil asked, crossing her arms.

            Kana was ticked. Soleil always switched between bossing him around or goofing off alongside him. He liked goofing off with her but he _hated_ being bossed around. Especially in times like now where she decided she knew what was best for him or what his mama would or wouldn’t let him do. She didn’t know! She didn’t know anything! She was just a dumb, stupid teenager!

            “You’re not my mama!” he shouted with a stamp of his foot.

            Soleil glared at him.

            “No but she’s not here so somebody’s gotta look out for you.”

            The door at the end of the aisle opened just as Kana yelled, “I can look out for myself!”

            “What the hell?” somebody said that Kana didn’t know. “How’d you get in here?”

            “Through the door,” Soleil said but she didn’t sound as sassy as she normally did.

            Kana turned to look at her. She didn’t look like she normally did either. Her face had gone all pale. Kana looked past her.

            There was a young man standing in the doorway. He had his hair all pulled back in a Hoshidian style that Kana thought would look good on him but nobody else did. The man was frowning.

            _Uncle Takumi!_ Kana thought with a jolt as the face before him clicked with the painting his mama always took him to when they visited Hoshido. Kana thought Takumi looked a lot better now than he did in that fading old painting.

            Everyone had been really worried that Takumi was alive and even more worried that he was fighting alongside Corrin but Kana didn’t understand why. Wasn’t it a good thing that he was alive and with Corrin? And couldn’t they tell everyone what happened so that he would stay alive?

            Kana had said as much but they’d all hated the idea. Except for Shiro. Shiro was always sticking up for him. Shiro _never_ tried to boss him around like the others did. Shiro knew how to have fun!

            Takumi kept talking but Kana had stopped paying attention. He was entirely fixated on getting his book back. Kana situated himself behind Soleil so that Takumi couldn’t see and rat on him. Then, he began to climb the bookshelf.

            _Don’t look down,_ he commanded himself. _Keep looking up._

            Kana was a little bit scared of heights but that was only really high heights and the bookshelf wasn’t really that tall and he was a good climber so he wasn’t worried about falling. At least, he wasn’t _really_ worried about falling but he was a _bit_ worried. When he reached the shelf he needed, he sighed loudly. He hadn’t meant to sigh loudly but he did and Soleil whirled around and her eyes were narrowed and her face was angry. Kana froze. His fingers curled into the wood so hard that they turned white.  

            Soleil grabbed him around the waist. She tugged hard, but Kana refused to budge. She tugged again, harder.

            Kana went with her tugging. He took the bookshelf with him. Kana flew backwards out of the aisle and onto the floor as the shelf toppled onto the one beside it. The hit shelf stood upright for a moment. Then, it fell. It slammed into the next one and then that one slammed into the next one and then all the shelves were falling like dominoes. Kana winced as each one collapsed into the next until they all lay atop each other on the floor.

            When the dust had cleared, Kana could see Siegbert standing at the other side of the room. Siegbert was rubbing his face really hard and Kana knew he was gonna need to steer clear of Siegbert for a good while to let him cool off or else suffer a severe nagging. Siegbert was very good at nagging because he was the only person that made Kana feel guilty. Kana didn’t think he _meant_ to make him feel guilty, but Kana always did. He was always making Siegbert’s life harder and that always made him feel a little sick.

            “Scatter!” Soleil shouted, throwing Kana off of her. She bolted for the door, but Shigure caught her by the wrist and dragged her back.

            Kana stood up and dusted himself off.  

            “I need to… get Corrin,” Takumi said.

            “There’s no need for that,” Siegbert said. “We’ll clean it all. Right now.”

            “That’s great, but you still broke in here.”

            Then, he went through the door and Kana could hear him shouting outside but he couldn’t tell what he was shouting.

            “Shit,” Shiro said and Kana really wished he could say shit without feeling like he was disappointing his mama because it was definitely a time for saying shit. And maybe what his mama didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

            “Sh—”

            Siegbert’s glare incinerated him from all the way across the room.

            “Shoot,” Kana said and then fumed because he wasn’t a baby! He could curse! He could say whatever he wanted! But instead of protesting, Kana pouted and waited for Takumi to return and hoped that whatever happened wouldn’t be too bad. But it probably would be because his mama wasn’t here to stop it.

            _Shit,_ Kana thought. He felt a little better for thinking it, even if his mama wasn't here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sakura is really one of my favorite characters because she has a lot of potential. Unfortunately, that often gets buried beneath stuttering and shyness. I've kind of worked within the idea that her shyness is both cage and shelter for her because, sometimes, that is really just how it be.  
> I did Silas REAL dirty in the previous version. He deserves better. He will get better. Hopefully, this will also allow him to be a multifaceted character rather than a Throw Away Side Character That Is Rejected By The Protagonist But Still Continues To Pine For Them For Comic Effect. Plus, I just legitimately adore Silas. He's such a sweetheart.  
> Kana is a hellion and I will accept nothing less. I imagine his hellion-ness is permitted to continue because 1) Corrin thinks its kind of funny that he wreaks havoc upon the gentry and 2) she can't NOT spoil him with affection. I mean, just look at him. Could you say no to that face?


	5. Changing Skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An impossible battle and a race against time.

            Corrin wiped the back of her hand against her forehead. It came away drenched in sweat. She snapped it out from her, sending tiny wet droplets of perspiration soaring in every direction. For the first time in hours, she was motionless. Her body ached.

            Around her, the army groaned and then stuttered to a halt. It had been a long day.

            She, alongside the rest of the army, crouched in a brush on an overlook, just before the Bottomless Canyon. From her vantage point, she could see the entire enemy line stretching endlessly in every direction.

            "Our odds are grim," Gunter huffed beside her. He removed a scope from his eye and passed it to her. Holding it flush against her right eye, she looked out over the battlefield.

            Through the scope, she immediately caught sight of Iago positioned at the rear. He rubbed at his wrists as he barked orders at the nearest troops, spittle flying from his mouth. With every shrieking command, his head bobbed and the monstrous half-mask he wore caught the sunlight in flashes of blinding gold like the beacon of a lighthouse. The Canyon was only a few feet behind him.  

            _I hope he trips over that horrible cape and falls down into it,_  she thought. _Even if he ends up in Valla with us, it’ll be worth it to see those spindly little legs go flying._

Corrin directed the scope out over the rest of the troops, dreading, not for the first time, the inevitable pushback from the others when she told them they’d have to leap into the abyss. If anyone else but Lilith had told her to take a swan dive off a rickety bridge into a canyon so deep that no one had ever seen the bottom of it, she would have called them mad.

            But Lilith had yet to be wrong.

            There were hundreds, if not thousands, of troops spanning the dirt in tight ranks. They displayed their colors proudly, with streaming banners emblazoned with the Nohrian emblem cresting throughout the mass. Their dark armor gleamed with wicked intent, polished to the point of vanity.

            In comparison, her army was pitiful and downtrodden. Their armor was scuffed, dented, or broken. Half of them were grievously wounded or on their way to the afterlife. The other half were dead on their feet, swaying with exhaustion and delirium. The healers did what they could to keep everyone energized, but there was only so much to be done. The lava fields had been tough on them all, searing fatigue into their flesh.

            Lowering the scope, she backed away from the brush. She walked to where the others were gathered farther down the hill. Their eyes were hot on her skin as she approached.

            “How’s it look?” Silas asked.

            Dirt and dust colored the parts of his face that his helmet didn’t cover. Beneath the grime, his face was flushed. His eyes kept darting past her face to the valley below. He’d confessed to her that he was nervous to face the army he’d once been so beholden to, but he’d kept it well hidden until now.

            “Not great,” she said.

            She turned to Camilla and joked, “You Nohrians really know how to roll out the welcome wagon.”

            Regret welled as Camilla scowled at her ill-thought joke, but the older woman said nothing. She stood slumped over her ax. Her wyvern curled on the ground behind her, its tail encircling her feet. Every so often, Camilla’s eyelids flickered as if she were about to take a nap. She had barely spoken two words since the bounty had been announced for Leo’s head. Now, her worry seemed to have manifested into a sleepy malaise.

            Overhead, the sky diluted as night melted into day. Burning shadows crept across the fragmented patchwork of midmorning blue and midnight black. Soon, it would be one solid shade and then night and day would bleed once more until salmon hued morning rose in Nohr and amethyst twilight sank over Hoshido. Documentation of the event suggested it took five hours. Lilith said it only took three; three hours to make it through the entire Nohrian army.

            "Our only option is a charge, straight through the middle," Corrin said. “Fight as little as possible. Our objective is the bridge over the canyon.”

            “And once we get to it?” Ryoma questioned.

            His arms were crossed. He’d joined them only a few hours prior, alongside Hinoka, and he’d been a bit of a thorn in her side ever since. He questioned her every directive and suggested courses of action that were often better, but undermined her authority and command.  

            “Jump,” she said.

            “You can’t be serious,” Scarlet scoffed. Corrin had only just met the Chevois warrior, but she liked her a great deal, even in spite of her churlish comments. She was sincere and steadfastly devout to the plight of her people. The world needed more people like her. 

            “I am,” she said. Then, she turned from the group, heading back to the brush atop the hill, scope in hand. When she had reached the position and crouched in the brush, Hinoka called up to her, “Most of us won’t even make it that far.”

            _I know,_ Corrin thought but didn’t say. She lifted the scope to her eye, squinting to find Iago’s exact position. Mired daylight and fog festered across the land, complicating her search. Finally, she found him amid a gathering of knights, all generals judging by the pageantry of their armor. His head bobbed, but his serpentine features were twisted into a smirk. His bejeweled fingers stroked the ebony cover of a heavy tome. The binding seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place it beyond a gnawing sense of recognition.

            She cast the scope out over the small group, searching for the speaker, and then, she found him. She shouldn’t have been surprised because it only made sense that he’d be here to oppose and break her. She’d smeared the good name of his country, the only thing he’d ever held dear. It was his duty and his pride to shatter her in the pursuit of honor and glory.

            She shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was.

            Xander stood tall and resolute above the others. He held his helmet in one hand and pointed with the other. His horse was nowhere to be seen and, though the weight of its absence was not lost on her, she could only think of how he’d let Elise name it and how Elise had dubbed it Lantana because she thought he needed more pretty things in his life and, if he couldn’t find any flowers, he could at least have one Lantana.

            Elise had been nothing but raw nerves and uncapped worry since the news of Leo’s death sentence broke. She’d lost a considerable amount of weight and all her good spirits. Corrin did her best to make the young girl smile, bringing her pretty flowers and spending a considerable amount of time braiding her hair, but there was no consoling something so heinous. Corrin knew that her misery was made all the more poignant because she had been so shielded and protected against turmoil by the very man who was now causing so much of it.

            Pushing thoughts of Elise aside, Corrin tried to read Xander’s lips, but the angle was all wrong and the endeavor proved fruitless. Siegfried pulsated with ruinous, bleeding light from his hip. She counted the seconds between its blinks as her free hand grazed the Yato, seeking the reassurance of its worn hilt. She’d trained and sparred with him on and off throughout the years of her imprisonment, but she’d never bested him. And, in all those sessions, he'd never needed Siegfried to send her sprawling.

            _I’m stronger now,_ she thought, but knew that she might still fall short. She had to be calm, composed, and completely oblivious to the raging upheaval in her heart. But levelheadedness had never been her forte.

            She watched Xander for a moment more and then directed the scope to Iago again. He stared at her and then, just as she thought, _There’s no way he can see me,_ the brush began to smolder around her as the tang of magic soured the air. She leapt away as it burst into flames. She clambered to her feet and then she was running back to the others, screaming, “We have to move! Now!”   

            "Ready the troops!" Ryoma shouted, raising Raijinto above his head. Corrin fell into formation beside her brother. She drew the Yato, brandishing it before her. She closed her eyes and held her breath as the wind buzzed with the sound of promises made, mantras recited, and prayers offered up to merciful gods. It grounded her nerves and was pretty to the ear, but it did nothing to quiet the mayhem of anxiety and raw emotion coursing through her veins at the prospect of death, destruction, and Xander. She had no promises to make, no mantra to recite, and no gods to pray to. Nearby, she heard Silas mutter a prayer for her health and wellbeing. The fell inferno died on the hillside before her, leaving the ground black with soot. The enemy lay beyond it.

            Corrin exhaled. She shouted the command to attack. Her hair blew across face as the army surged forward.

            Then, she was breaking free of the formation, hurtling towards the Nohrian line. The cavalry rushed ahead of her. She saw the first blows exchanged and then she was among them.

            Three Nohrians attacked her at once. She swung at the first, caught him in the arm. He shrieked, then fell down. She dodged, kicked out, managed to buckle the second's legs. She moved forward. The third followed.

            Sweat dripped into her eyes. Her vision blurred. She saw only streaks of color. She twisted out of the way of a broad ax. She caught a boot to the ribs. Something cracked. Bile shot into her mouth. She spat into the dirt, adjusted her stance, aimed for the head. It didn't connect, barely avoided the next attack. She heard the sound of slicing wind, watched the Nohrian collapse, saw an arrow sprouted between helmet and mantle. Her chest burned. She smelled magnolias. The pain vanished. Elise was nearby. Corrin didn't thank her. She moved forward.

            The air by her ear sizzled. She dove to the ground. Nosferatu erupted behind her. She twisted to her feet. The Yato skewered the sorcerer. She yanked the blade free. The mage fell. She moved forward. A berserker came at her. She dodged. The Yato severed the berserker's arm. Her mouth tasted like dirt. Her eyes stung from the sweat. She moved forward.

            She was rushed again. There were five this time. She dodged. She couldn't attack. She parried. She deflected. Her legs were leaden. The tip of a spear found purchase in her shoulder. She lurched away. Blood gushed. She dodged the arc of a sword. The dragonstone lying against the hollow of her throat pulsated in time with her heart beat. The sensation spread. Then, she heard the thunder of wings overhead.

            Corrin threw her arm up. A sky knight snatched it, grabbing her by the forearm. The momentum carried her onto the back of the pegasus. It nearly tore her shoulder from her socket. She slumped forward. Feathery touch blossomed across her back, Sakura’s doing.

            From the sky, Corrin could see only fire and mist and ruin and fallen soldiers hiding the turgid ground from sight. Magic wavered in the air around her, stinging her nose and turning her stomach.  

            Corrin nudged the sky knight, thanking them in heavily accented Hoshidian. They dipped low, farther behind enemy lines. Corrin leapt and then rolled into the landing. Her jaw clicked together as her body hit the ground. Pain radiated through her spine and down into her knees. She moved forward.

            An infantryman engaged her. Their sword blazed past her ear. Then, the air seared. Gnarled roots burst through the ground, narrowly missing Corrin's foot. Her heart leapt into her throat. She stumbled back. The Yato suddenly seemed inadequate.

            Her thoughts, once empty impulses of motion and action, became a knot of frenzied rationalizations.

            _Iago’s stolen Brynhildr,_  she thought. _Leo's_ _dead._

            The infantryman swung at her head. She reared back too late. The blade ripped through the skin on her cheek. Blood oozed. She could taste it, oily and slick.

            Corrin charged. She feinted. She ducked close. The Yato ripped through the infantryman's side. It scoured rib. She moved forward.

            Brynhildr tore into a new victim. Fresh screams. Wet sobs. Her head throbbed. The battlefield pulsated. Colors were artificial. They burned her eyes.

            Dual cavaliers rushed her. She leapt out of their paths. They didn't come back at her. All around her was the sound suctioning roots and dying shrieks.

            A lancer lunged. She spun away. They swung overhead. She rolled under them. She hit the dirt hard. Searing agony ignited her hip. The pain kept her down a moment longer. A shadow blocked out the sun. The lancer shrieked. Then, they lay at eye-level with her. Their eyes were listless through the slits in their helmet. Blood gushed from their mouth, staining the fleshy pink of their lips scarlet to match the Nohrian arms they bore. Violet light pulsated across the dying lancer’s face.

            “Corrin.”

            It hurt to hear. She scrambled to her feet. He took off his helmet, casting it aside into the fray. The world blurred around him. Despair caught in her throat. Memory smoldered across her chest. Adrenaline stamped it out. Numb cascaded through her veins. His mouth moved but she couldn’t hear him, wouldn’t have listened him even if she had. She raised the Yato.

            She charged. He sidestepped. She lashed out, caught him across the bicep, didn’t puncture his armor. The Yato roared through the air. Siegfried swung up to meet it. The blow sent her staggering. She steadied her stance, grit her teeth, flew at him in a flurry of slashes and stabs. None connected. He attacked, caught the inside of her wrist, bent it back, sent the Yato into the dirt. She leapt towards it. He kicked it away.

            He didn't attack. He lowered Siegfried. He held up his free hand, spread it flat in the air. She curled her fingers around the dragonstone. Animal instinct swelled from her grip. Before it could take her, she saw an archer line up a shot between her eyes. She dropped to the ground. Magic sizzled. Roots burst from the earth. The archer screamed. The roots tightened, showering her in a fine mist of blood. Then, Brynhildr returned to the earth.

            A hand swam into her vision, sheathed in wrought steel. She didn’t take it. She stood and stared at the man who had offered it. He stared back. He seemed so much older than she remembered. She moved out of sheer love and relief. She threw her arms around him as tight as she could. The fine metal of her armor scuffed against the thick spires and juts of his. He patted her back once. His hand hovered between her shoulder blades in a strange, hug.

            When the fog of battle cleared and she realized the absurdity of her behavior, she pulled away. He smirked at her. She glared in return.

            “I thought you were dead,” she said.

            “I’m a hard man to kill,” Leo said, moving to stand beside his brother.

            Corrin rolled her eyes. Then, she demanded, “What the hell is going on?”

            Xander said nothing. He refused to meet her eye. He shoved the Yato towards her with his foot. She snatched it away, immediately brandishing it. Leo scowled at her.

            “I’ll explain later,” he said. “It’s quite a story.”

            She stared at the two of them and said, "I hope you brought reinforcements.”

            Leo rolled his eyes and huffed.

            "Unlike you, we planned our treason," he said.

 

* * *

 

            When it happened, Leo was not there. In fact, he was as far away as he could have possibly been. He had ridden with Xander to the back of the formation to rally the troops for the last forward push. The fighting had been relegated to the cliffs along the canyon’s edge. They were greeted by their retainers, waving them closer. Laslow motioned to Corrin, still visible above the horde of Faceless, and said, "Hell of a trick!"

            And it  _was_  a hell of a trick. The shock of Corrin shedding her human form had nearly stopped his heart. There had been rumors of course, but Leo hadn’t believed them. He’d had more pressing matters to worry about than tall tales. There had been the whole messy business of being a wanted fugitive and organizing a rebellion simultaneously, after all. He’d stayed awake too many nights fearing assassination, but there had never even been an attempt. Xander had made sure of that. Xander had made sure of so much.  

            Beside him, Xander relayed the logistics of the final leg of the battle against Iago’s Faceless and the remaining soldiers. Leo barely listened. He thought of Corrin.

_No one in a millennium has had blood so potent. Both the Dusk and Dawn Dragons’ blessings have been diluted to the point of impotence in the royal lines. It’s simply impossible that she be able to—_

            A scream rang out, shrill and inhuman.

            Leo slammed his hands over his ears and spun towards the earsplitting sound.

            In the distance, Corrin, still in her dragon form, stood frozen above the masses, eyeless head stiff and pointed to the sky. Leo’s jaw clenched so tight that his teeth were on the verge of shattering. His thoughts were scrambled inside his skull. It was the kind of sound that could drive a man insane. It persisted far too long. Then, Corrin's draconic form shrank until it disappeared. The screeching ceased.

            He was the first to move, spurring his steed forward. He snapped the reins to the tune of thundering hooves in pursuit. The land flew past, a blur of grayscale and muted flashes from the polished armor of the dead. 

           Skidding to a halt, Leo dismounted in a single, fluid motion. His boots sank into the bloody dirt. Elise stood nearby. It was the first time he’d seen her in months. Arthur and Effie were on either side of her. They fought off the Faceless that came near.

            Elise did not move. She stood still, rod clenched between white knuckles. His fingers wrapped around her shoulder and then he yanked her backwards. He demanded, "What happened?"

            The movement broke her. She doubled over, collapsing against his chest. Tears streamed from her eyes as she wept.

            "It's Corrin!" she yelped. "Her leg! There’s poison! We can’t… we can't heal her!"

            "How bad?" he asked. The terror didn’t creep into his voice but it kept his joints tight. His sweat was blistering cold.

            His sister didn't answer, couldn't answer as her sobs overtook her voice. Effie stepped towards them. Fresh blood dotted her armor and dripped from the tip of her lance.

            “I could see bone,” Effie said. “And a lot of it.”

            Elise began to tremble. Leo released her. She fell to her knees, keening and rocking in the dirt. He thought of the feel of Corrin’s arms knit tight around him, hugging him in the middle of a damned battle, absolving him of his sins against her in a single, stupid motion.

            _I’ve only just got her back,_ he thought. 

            Leo retrieved Brynhildr from his mount. The blood thrumming in his head drowned out the sound of his sister's choked sobs. He stepped past Elise and her retainers.

            Faceless rushed at him, but Brynhildr erupted beneath them. They turned into smoke.

            Leo could only move and destroy.

            _Iago had a wyrmslayer,_ he thought.

Leo had seen it strapped across the sorcerer’s back, but he hadn’t questioned it beyond his initial notice. He’d been too worried about maintaining his disguise as a lowly Nohrian grunt. He hadn’t considered that Iago had put stock in the rumors of Corrin’s ability and had armed himself with the one weapon that could tear through plated scales in a single strike. And poisoned it for good measure. 

            But maybe it wasn’t just Iago’s plan. Maybe his father had known of their treachery, of their plans of civil war and revolt, but had sent the army anyway. Maybe Iago's only instructions had been to kill Corrin. Maybe his father had permitted their treason so they would watch her die.

            Leo screamed, directing Brynhildr outward. The incantation came without thought. Dozens of Faceless disappeared, taken by the roots. His fingers trembled. He laid them flat against Brynhildr's cover. He inhaled. He threw his arm out, opened the tome with a flick of his wrist. 

            The roots shot up, punching through the monsters' legs and chests until they vanished. His vision blurred. He didn't stumble. He shook his head to right his vision. Drops of sweat flew from his white-gold hair. A hand pulled him back.

            "You'll kill yourself!"

            _Niles,_ he thought.

            He shrugged off Niles' hand. The ache in his blood radiated. He didn’t stop. He thought of Corrin. Pictured her ashen face. Her severed leg. Her weakening breaths.

            _My fault,_  he thought. _I should have known._

            Distracted, a Faceless managed to attack him, denting the armor on his forearm. A blast of thunder. The monster fell away.

            "Odin Dark has your back!"

            Leo shook the fog from his head. Brynhildr destroyed another row of Faceless. His hands wavered. The tome drank his strength. He didn't care. Corrin was dying. She’d never know he was sorry. Maybe she was already dead.

            _My fault,_ he thought. 

            "Lord Leo!"

            A Faceless drove a shackled claw into Leo’s stomach. He stumbled backwards. His lungs burned. His throat was raw. Niles grunted. An arrow bloomed from the Faceless' head. It disintegrated.

            Leo continued to tear through the Faceless. Both his retainers cried for him to stop. He wouldn't stop. Iago had to die first. His veins shone through his skin. Brynhildr was draining him dry. It ate his mortality. He drew upon more of its power. Too much of its power. More power required more strength. More sacrifice.

            The rest of the army caught up. They pushed the Faceless back. More Faceless came, but not as many. Iago was tiring. Leo had tunnel vision.

            Xander rushed past Leo. Siegfried blazed. A dozen Faceless evaporated in the crimson light. Jealously tinged Leo’s breath. Leo flexed his fingers. Summoned Brynhildr. A wall of roots burst in front of his brother. 

            He destroyed nearly a third of the attacking Faceless. His vision turned black. He swayed in place. He managed not to fall. He tasted rust. He spit. Blood stained the dirt. Xander shouted something. Leo couldn't hear. His ears rumbled. He raised his hand. He began the incantation.

            A wyvern screeched. The rider swooped low. He stumbled out of the way. He threw an arm up over his eyes. Bits of dust and rock pelted his eyes. The wind from its wings pushed Brynhildr from his palm. The tome slammed shut as it fell. He bent to retrieve it. His fingers brushed the leather binding. The edge of an ax swung down. It stopped millimeters from his skin. His head snapped up. He met his sister's burning eyes. Her leg swung from the stirrup to kick him square in the chest. He fell ungracefully onto the ground. The swell of movement dotted his vision with blossoms of black. He gripped his head, fingers burrowing against his temples in an attempt to relieve the pressure. When the darkness cleared, both Brynhildr and his sister were gone.

            "Damnit Camilla!" Leo cursed after her, scrambling to his feet. Odin and Niles rushed to his side and poked and prodded for broken bones. He batted them away, scowling at their concern.

            Ahead of them, Iago fought off Xander and the others. He managed to keep them at bay by replicating himself until it was nearly impossible to discern which was the real Iago. In the mist and the shadow, the clones were identical in every way. The Faceless still persisted. With the focus on Iago, less Faceless were killed. More continued to form, attacking from all sides.

            Lurching forward, Leo ripped his sword free from the scabbard on his waist. It felt abnormally heavy in his grasp. He hardly ever trained with it. Odin and Niles flanked him. They moved as a unit. Each time he engaged one of the monsters, it was dead in seconds, though rarely did he deal the killing blow. The sword certainly wasn't his strong suit.

            With his retainer’s help, he quickly reached his brother's side.

            Xander decapitated an Iago replica and it dissolved into static. He asked, "Can you tell?"

            Leo could. He had spent hours studying the very magic that Iago now utilized. Imperceptible to the untrained eye, the real Iago moved a split second faster than his counterparts. When he waved his arm to raise more Faceless, his clones lagged behind. The true Iago stood just to their right and tried his best to hide that he was watching them, but Leo pointed ahead and Xander moved without question.

            The Iagos cackled at the misdirection and sidestepped Leo's attack. Leo swung again. A bolt of Nosferatu fragmented the ground before him. He tripped over the uneven juts, falling to his knees. His retainers rushed to his aid, lifting him to his feet within seconds, but the damage had been done.

            "Best call big brother back!” the Iagos jeered.

            Leo's movements were lethargic and haphazard. His knees groaned from their kiss against the hard ground. His blows traced wildly off target.

            The adrenaline in his veins was the only thing keeping him on his feet. Beside him, Niles nocked an arrow. Leo screamed, "I have this!"

            Niles didn't lower his bow, but he didn't fire either.

            "Ah, the arrogance of youth," Iago said. "I don’t—"

            Blood spurted across Leo's face as a sword slashed into Iago's neck with a wet thwack _._  Then, the sorcerer’s grinning head went flying off into the distance. Retching, Leo dropped his blade. He wiped at his stained skin with both hands. Iago’s headless body slumped to the ground. His clones disappeared. In the sorcerer's place stood a silver-haired knight with an awful cowlick and a good-natured smile.

            "Sorry about that," the knight said. "You looked like you needed help."

            Recognizing the knight from among Xander’s ranks did little to stop Leo from considering turning his sword on Silas as his adrenaline crashed. Silas continued to smile at him. Leo sighed and turned away. The Faceless had stopped rising. The rest were quickly being done away with.

            Camilla landed beside Leo. She held Brynhildr out to him. He snatched it from her and cradled it to his chest, glaring. She pursed her lips.

            It was the first time they had interacted in over a year.

            "We have to go!" a man shouted. Leo frowned.

            The man, who Leo recognized as Corrin's butler, Jakob, rushed towards the bridge, urging everyone to follow. Jakob made it onto the first plank on the bridge when Laslow called, "Hold! Where are we to go?"

            "Into the canyon!" Jakob said. "And quickly, the skies are almost completely switched!"

            Leo exchanged a dumbfounded expression with Niles. Laslow opened his mouth to protest but didn't manage to get a word out as the earth began to rumble. The swordsman was thrown unceremoniously to the ground.

            As the tremors spread, others were knocked off their feet as well. Leo managed to stabilize himself but Odin's feet flew out from underneath him and Niles was launched forward. The stream of curses that left the outlaw's mouth when he landed were so vile that Leo was suddenly and astutely aware of the dirt caking his exposed skin.

            The ground split open all across the battlefield. The landscape shifted as spectral figures rose through the cracks. Their forms wavered in the sunlight, some nearly invisible. Each brandished a weapon, though there seemed to be no rank or file to their formation. Their armor and markings were like nothing Leo had ever encountered before on the battlefield or in the pages of historical texts. Their numbers grew until there seemed to be no end. The rumbling stopped. The silence was tremendous. No one moved. The sky was steadily separating into distinct night and day overhead.

            "No time to argue!" Jakob shouted. Then, he took a swan dive off the bridge.

            "Well, today's really gone to shit," Niles muttered as he stood from the dirt.

            Leo nodded in begrudging agreement and then turned and ran for the bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Leo's not dead! Leo's basically my favorite character so you don't have to worry. He's safe! For now...  
> And so we have our first battle sequence. In all honesty, I struggle the most with battle/action writing because its so hard to make the words match the scene in my head. The previous version was full of cop outs as I intentionally wrote around battle scenes which ended up driving the narrative arc and kind of worked, but I still feel it was pretty obvious that I just didn't want to write them lol.  
> I also just want to take this time to thank everyone that has left a comment. Y'all have no idea how much each one makes my day. I literally reread them over and over.0 I love talking about this story because I've invested so much time in it and nobody in my personal life even knows I'm writing it or what this fandom even is so this is really the only place I have to get all the energy out. If you ever have any questions about extraneous things beyond the plot, please feel free to ask! I have so many headcannons that this story has spawned that I'm always a little sad when I can't worm them into it (which ended up being part of the problem with the original because I would think of something and go "oh, that's cool" and then just throw it in without any context or suitable backstory lmao).  
> Lots of love to everyone and I hope your holidays are happy!


	6. Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura grieves. Leo suffers.

            Sakura was a vessel of churning turmoil. She did not try to speak. Her words had left her. She only held her trembling hands over her trembling lips. Thoughts flitted in and out of her skull like bolts of lightning. Some sparked and vanished. Some illuminated the gnarled dread that had sunk its fingers into the soft membrane of her mind. They held her firmly in place, prevented her from moving. From fleeing. From sobbing. From crumpling.

            She couldn’t see the body now, but she had seen it, had been the first one to see. Before the shroud had been draped over top it. Before the word had gotten out. Before the crowd had gathered outside. Before they had begun whispering, _“What do we do?”_

            _Leave her alone,_ Sakura thought. _Leave. Leave. Leave._

Her silent pleas were answered only by the quiet sniffles around her and the pelting rain on the other side of the window. She didn’t know when the storm had begun only that it had come soon after Elise and the other healers had come to help and soon before the poison had spread.

            But then the poison had spread. And the blood had stopped flowing. And Elise had fled. And the other healers had offered their condolences.

            “What do we do, Ryoma?” Hinoka asked.

            Her voice was a rasping hiss. Her eyes were red and her face was splotched pink. She sat on the desk chair with her arms wrapped tight around her chest. Takumi stood behind her. He kept a steady hand on her shoulder. The other quivered at his side.

            Ryoma said nothing. He stood by the window, hands laid flat against the windowsill. He hung his head low.

            “Ryoma?” Hinoka asked, standing from the chair. Her arm shook as she reached for him. He shied away from her touch and then she shaking all over. Sakura turned her gaze to the floor. There was nothing gut wrenching about scuffed floorboards.

            Someone yelled in the hall. They sounded angry.

            The door shot open with a percussive thud to rival the booming thunder. Leering eyes glistened from the gloom of the stairwell. Their rampant, hungry fear drifted through the cloying warmth and preyed upon the raw misery exuding from the room. Then, they were shut behind a seal of wood. Their prying gaze lingered.

            Three figures joined them, two standing on their own feet and the third hanging off the taller of the two. Their hulking forms sucked away all the air in the room. Sakura’s head spun. She bit her tongue. Blood welled and fragments of memory spurted in her mind. 

            _The pulse fading. The last choking breath. Her own voice screaming, **“Get Ryoma!”** Subaki bolting for the door. Elise following after him. The unending silence._

            Fingers prodded at Sakura’s wrist and squeezed tight around the prone hand. The sensations fell out of her head. Sakura let Hana hold her hand. There was no feeling that came with it. 

            “You’re not welcome here,” Takumi said to them but they only stared with horrible violet eyes.

            Elise looked at her from her brother’s side, but Sakura couldn’t meet the other girl’s eyes. She stared at the dark blotches on the Nohrian’s cheeks and the disheveled mess of hair that clung to the wetness on her face but never dared to glance at her eyes. The sorrow would only stir the sludge of emotions in her chest.

            _You left me,_ Sakura thought.  _You're_ _supposed to be my friend and you left me._

            Hana squeezed her hand again. Sakura blinked.

            The Nohrians stood at the door. Then, Xander moved, taking Elise with him. Two footfalls and he was at the bedside. He was the only moving thing in the whole room. Elise clung to his neck. Her legs wrapped tight around his waist. His groping fingers reached for the shroud.

            A formless weight wrapped tight around Sakura’s forearm. It pulled. Her arm bent. Twisted into a limp and helpless angle. She went with it. The world slipped behind a curtain of calloused fingers. She struggled. Broke free. Said, “I see this all the time.”

            “Not your sister.”

            And it was her sister. Corrin. Poisoned and bleeding. Screaming and thrashing. Fading and stilling. Pale and bloodless. Dead.

            “I—” Sakura tried but only burbling, infantile noises followed.

            _I couldn’t save her,_ Sakura thought feverishly. _Nobody knew the poison. It was necrotic. It was anticoagulant. It spread too fast. It emptied her veins. It rotted her heart._

The unsaid words and medical explanations filled her throat and strangled her tongue.

            _I wasn’t enough._ _And she was everything._

            Lightning flashed outside.

            Sakura watched Camilla stumble. Watched her hand latch onto the bookshelf and knock dozens of books to the floor. They landed in rapid succession. Each thud was a nail driven into Sakura’s skull.

            Sakura watched Elise nearly fall from Xander’s side. Watched him catch her before she could lose her grip. Elise began to weep. Her pitiful blustering breaths were nauseating until she buried her face into her brother’s shoulder and the sound of them dampened.

            Sakura watched Xander stare and do nothing but that. She hated it worst of all.

            “Are you satisfied?” Takumi spat. His voice was dry and brittle. “You’ve seen her. Now get out.”

            “They have just as much right to be here as you,” Xander said.

            Sakura felt her sister move more than she saw it. One second, Hinoka was still and immobile. The next, she was gone from the chair, sending a gusting breeze through the room. Sakura’s bangs flittered and then Hinoka stood toe to toe with him.

            “You have no right!” Hinoka shouted. “None of you do! You stole her! You stole her and you kept her and you changed her and—"

            Sakura’s vision doubled and she couldn’t hear much anymore. Hinoka’s fury had faded into rumbling fuzz. Sakura could only watch.

            Tears coursed down Hinoka’s face as she continued to scream in muffled bursts. They glistened on her cheeks that had turned as red as the strands of hair brushing against it. Spittle flew from her wrathful tongue. Takumi nodded at her every word. Ryoma stared at the displaced shroud. Lightning flashed outside.

Hinoka jabbed her finger into Xander’s chest. Accusation strained the tendons in her wrist and sent tremors through her arm. Elise’s lips parted in shrieking protest. Camilla slapped at Hinoka’s offending finger. Rage crackled across Camilla’s face with every quiver of her lips. Takumi came to Hinoka’s side. His expression was unabashedly hateful. Hands shook in anger. Lips twisted into sneers.

            It happened the moment Hinoka curled her fingers. Her hair lifted into a corona of red and then the room exploded in scorching light. There was nothing but that light. It felt like falling. It tasted like dust.

            The light receded. Thunder shook the room.

            Sakura was on the floor. Her face was pressed flat against the wood. Rain peppered her skin. There was pain where her nose should have been. Somebody screamed. She turned her head. The floor was dotted with shattered glass and outstretched limbs. The storm wailed through the broken window. Her arms were butter. Her thoughts were a spinning typhoon. Sakura struggled to lift herself. 

            “Why’s everyone on the floor?”

            The voice was thick, slurred with slumber. Sakura’s arms gave out. The jolt of pain kicked her thoughts into overdrive and she thought, _I’m hallucinating,_ several hundred times over. She stared at the broken landscape around her until it changed into a flurry of moving bodies, all clambering to stand. Two bloodied feet swung off the bed.

            Sakura arched her chin to see her sister moving, blinking, breathing, living.

            “What’s going on?”

            _You’re supposed to be dead,_ Sakura thought. 

            Corrin’s voice was weak, barely a whisper, but, to Sakura, it was the loudest noise she’d ever heard.

            “Why am I here? What happened?”

            Ryoma took one of Corrin’s arms. Elise took the other, pressing her fingers into the crook of Corrin’s wrist. Sakura willed herself to stand but her body refused to cooperate. Her vision dotted black. When it cleared, Sakura wished Corrin would look her way, if only so that she could see her eyes sparking with thoughts and dreams and memories again.

            Corrin stood. Ryoma let her. Elise’s fingers were still pressed into Corrin’s flesh. Her face was slack. 

“Why can’t I—?"

            The question withered. Corrin had seen the ruined flesh of her leg.

            “Oh.”

            The ruby red of her eyes slipped backwards into her head. Corrin pitched forward. Xander caught her before she fell. 

            Sakura took little note of what happened next. She knew that she had been helped to her feet, that her nose, which had most assuredly been shattered, had been healed, that nobody had been able to say anything beyond _“Gods,”_ that she had confirmed that the poison had inexplicably vanished from Corrin’s body, that she had worked alongside Elise to heal the gash in Corrin’s leg, that she had yelled at all of them to give her space to work and that they had only crowded in closer, but she could remember none of it.

            The first thing she remembered after Corrin’s revival was Takumi’s flinty presence beside her as he said, “This must be some sort of trick” and then the sound of Camilla flinging open the door and shouting into the hallway, “Corrin’s alive!”

            And Sakura could think nothing but a fevered refrain of, _Alive! Alive! Alive!_

* * *

 

            Leo awakened to the smell of antiseptic and an unreasonably dry mouth. He blinked at the sterile magelight that hovered on the ceiling above him. Shifting to prop himself up onto his elbows was agony, but he managed. He stared out at his unfamiliar surroundings, taking note of the drawn curtain surrounding the cot he lay in and the soft gauze encircling his head, and surmised that he was in an infirmary.

            “How are you feeling?”

            Leo turned to the voice and found his brother sitting in a chair that was much too small for him. Niles snored in another equally small chair beside him. Odin lay bunched at Niles’ feet, murmuring softly in his sleep.

            “I… Fine, I suppose," Leo said. "Where am I?”

            Xander furrowed his brow.  

            “You don’t remember?”

            Through the thin partitions, Leo could hear someone groaning in pain. Their voice rose and fell with each audiation of anguish. Leo’s head ached.

            _I hate these damn places,_ he thought and, to his brother, he said, “If I remembered, would I be asking?”

            “They told me they had to sedate you, but I didn’t think that would affect your memory.”

            “I was sedated?”

            Xander nodded.

            “You were rather upset about Corrin," he said. 

            Leo stared at his brother. Fractured memories began to rise from the panging dark.

_It was pouring rain and he was in the courtyard of some fortress. He didn’t recognize the architecture or any of the people that flitted by._

_A storm had engulfed the sky. Rain fell in massive sheets of sopping wet. The air stank of battle, but there was no battle. They’d leapt into the canyon to escape the rolling tide of the ghostly army and now they were here. Wherever here was._

_“I need to see Corrin,” Leo said._

_His adrenaline had completely abandoned him. His legs barely held him anymore. His eyes saw spurts of black and purple with each blink. The rain plastered his hair against his skull. The limp strands tickled his face and hung in his eyes._

_“You need to see a healer,” Niles said._

_His fingers were tight around Leo’s left hand, Odin’s were tight around the right. Leo’s gauntlets were gone. He didn’t remember taking them off._

_With each step, his mind grew fuzzier. Someone shouted directions to the infirmary. Odin and Niles pulled on his hands, strong-arming him towards the voice._

_His eyelids were heavy. Numb sensation spread into his limbs and dulled his fingers. He blinked and when he looked out at the world again, he was on the ground. He coughed up water. A child was shrieking nearby._

_“Shit,” Niles said. “I think he’s concussed.”_

_His dark face swam in Leo’s vision. Leo smiled, but he wasn’t really sure why. He felt like a sunken stone lying prone in the mud and the storm like he was, but the sight of Niles lifted the weight a little. Then, Niles was running away. Leo watched his retreating form squirm and shimmer._

_“C’mon,” Odin aid and then Leo was sitting up. Odin’s arms buoyed him upright. Flaming purple shielded him from the deluge as Niles’ silver sheen had before. His sister knelt before him, her face tight and concerned beneath the grit of war. Leo blinked at her and thought,_ **_Where the hell did she come from?_**

_“Is he alright?” Camilla asked._

_Her voice was a shout above the cascading water. She touched her fingertips to his forehead. They were warm against the sweat and the grime and the rain._

_“He passed out. Niles went to get a healer,” Odin said._

_“He definitely needs one,” Xander said._

_Leo grimaced. He didn’t know where Xander had come from either, but he stood beside Camilla now. The rain made their forms waver. They looked like they had stepped from the ether of a dream._

_“Xander!”_

_The shriek knocked against his hollow skull. Blotting pain dotted his sight. Behind Xander, the crowd broke apart. Elise stood in the emptiness. He hadn’t seen her after the last leg of the battle, but he’d been told her retainers had dragged her from the field long before the supernatural army had arrived. Her face was abnormally red. Her shoulders shook. Her pigtails were two sagging slugs off the sides of her head._

_Xander turned. Leo watched the water ping off of his armor and began to feel the cold seeping through his own metal shell._

_Elise shrieked again. She rocketed forward, launching herself against Xander. Her entire body shook with sobs. The air was thin. Her hulking sobs thundered in time with the fury of the storm. The noise made Leo’s teeth hurt. Xander lifted Elise onto his side._

_Camilla stood. She asked, "What's wrong sweetheart?"_

_Elise tried to speak, but she failed to form words._

_Leo had seen her do so once before. He forced the two syllables out, even as they grated against his tongue._

_“Corrin,” he groaned, as loud as he could muster._

_Elise wailed, nodding in hysterical confirmation. Then, he was struggling to stand with leaden feet and numb hands._

_“Stop that!” Odin commanded, locking his arms over Leo’s chest. Leo thumped solidly against the ground and, as his head rolled back and the dark threatened to take him again, Camilla asked, “What’s wrong with Corrin?”_

_Her voice had lost all pretense of maternal warmth. Elise began to hiccup. Leo looked at her and saw she trembled so severely that Xander had to brace his arm against her back lest she fall from his grip and tumble down into the mud. Camilla snatched Elise’s wrist. Lighting crackled across the rolling black sky._

_“What’s wrong with Corrin, Elise? Camilla demanded._

_Her voice was colder than the floodwaters eking into his blood. Her fingers were bloodless around Elise’s plump wrist. Elise wailed._

_“She’s dead!”_

_Camilla released Elise. Her head tilted down, chin pointing to the muck underfoot. The rain flowed from her hair and slipped off her nose and jaw. She looked like a statue of marble and anguish. Then, she broke into a sprint._

_Xander followed after her._

_Leo lurched against Odin’s grasp. The sky split and the thunder roared and the mud was a lake beneath him. He thrashed and he rolled and he screamed until Niles returned with the healer. Odin shouted. Niles shouted. The healer knelt before him._

_Then, conjured dark. Artificial slumber._

Leo stared at his brother as frigid dread blistered in his stomach while numb softened the rest of him.

            “She’s dead?” he croaked.

            “Not anymore.”

            Leo blinked. Xander shrugged. Beside him, Niles shifted and mumbled incoherently.

            “She was dead, but she’s fine now," Xander said.

            The swirling grief abated.

            “But… how?”

            “I have no idea,” Xander said. “It seems more your area of expertise than mine.”

But it wasn’t. Leo had seen many things that were beyond belief and had heard of even more, but had never seen or heard of anyone being brought back from the dead.

            _At least, not successfully,_ Leo thought and then he could see mangled sinew and smell raw meat as he recalled Iago’s attempts at necromancy. The closest the sorcerer had ever gotten to restoring human life was the Faceless, but they were only mindless husks of reanimated flesh, possessing no thoughts of their own beyond animalistic rage.

            Fresh dread soured Leo’s thoughts. He asked, “Is she herself?”   

            “I assume so,” Xander said. “I didn’t get a chance to ask. She passed out soon after… coming back.”

            “And you didn’t remain to see if she really was alright?”

            Xander frowned. He shifted, catching the imitation light in such a way that Leo noticed he was free of his armor and his face was clean of the filth of war that had marred it earlier.

            _How long have I been unconscious?_ he wondered as he became uncomfortably aware of the pungent stink emanating from his unwashed skin. 

            “The entire army is looking after Corrin," Xander said. "I thought it best to check on you.”

            Leo didn’t know what to say.

 _He just doesn’t want to face Corrin after fighting a war against her for the past year and a half,_ Leo thought, but he knew that was only partially true.

            Someone began to hack loudly and wetly. A curtain was drawn. Hushed voices began to whisper as the hacking became wheezing gasps. Soon, the silence was worse than the noise had been. 

            _I’ve had enough of this place,_ Leo thought. He grabbed at the rough blanket covering him and threw it back. He swung his legs off the cot.

            “Where are you going?” Xander asked. 

“To see Corrin.”

Then, Leo hopped to the floor, landed on legs far weaker than he’d anticipated, and careened forward. In a flailing panic, he snatched at the curtain, but only managed to take the partition down with him. He fell to the floor in a jumbled heap of ache. The curtain descended on top of him. The rod whacked him across his back.

            There were cries of alarm from all around and a shout of “Damnable damnation!” followed by a deep growling of discontent as his retainers awoke. Leo’s face burned. He began to scramble against the sheet, trying to find the end so that he could emerge from beneath it, but had no such luck. The harder he struggled, the more entangled he became.

            There was a scuffle of boots and then the curtain was shorn free. He stared at the points of Odin’s boots, recognizing them immediately by the atrocious fashion his retainer boasted. He swallowed the knot of embarrassment in his throat and then, though his limbs ached and his head tipped, he forced himself to stand. He brushed at his shirt and pants with all the nonchalance he could muster. His brother pressed a fist into his mouth, but the edges of a smirk crept out. Niles’ shook with constrained laughter. Leo glowered at both of them. A gaggle of healers stood by Odin’s side, staring at him in mingled alarm and confusion. 

            “Are you alright?” one of them asked, coming forward to prod at his skull. He brushed her off and snapped, "I'm fine."

            She backed off, presumably more from having found nothing of concern rather than from his hostility, and then looked past him and announced, “We’ll get this curtain back up in a jiff.”

            “Thank you,” came the quiet response.

            Leo turned to offer an apology to express his humanity or a haughty remark to reinforce his princely status, he hadn’t quite decided yet, but he fell silent upon seeing the group that had previously been obscured by the curtain. There were four of them sitting at the bedside of a small child. Leo could tell nothing of the child in the cot, as their back was turned to him, but the others, three boys and a girl, stared unabashedly at him.

            He looked to the one closest to him first and, taking in his blonde hair and astonishingly sharp nose, he felt like he had seen the boy somewhere before. In fact, as he swept over the rest of the assembled group, he felt that he had seen all of them before. No distinct realization sprung at him, but he’d always been dreadful with pairing names and faces.

            They stared at him like they knew him, but he was used to the stricken expressions that his status garnered.

            He returned his attention to the healers and snapped, “Fix the damn thing.”

            Then, he hobbled to his cot, shrugging off Odin’s attempt to assist him, and burrowed back beneath the blanket, sating his residual embarrassment with the meager camouflage it gave.

            His brother’s reprimanding frown was heavy on his brow, but Leo ignored him.

            _I know I’m an idiot. You don’t have to tell me,_ he wanted to say, but didn’t.

            Xander stood and went over to assist the struggling healers. Leo scowled as they gushed admiration and awe.

            Niles came to his side, peering down at him. The magelight wreathed his shaggy hair in a faux halo. Leo did his best not to squirm from his emotionless gaze, demanding, “What?”

            Niles shrugged. He said, “It’s just good to know a near death experience doesn’t make you any less of an asshole.”

            Leo glared, but a blush broke out as he did. Niles smirked.

            “Indeed, the dark currents are still quite potent within you,” Odin agreed, coming to hover over the other side of him as the healers oohed his brother’s attempts to reaffix the curtain rod.

            "I hate you two," Leo said, but he didn’t feel quite so spiteful anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a very long time to decide whether or not to include Leo's section in this chapter or to make it a separate chapter from this one, as I really like the note Sakura's ends on, but I divide the chapters by days so I couldn't justify in my head separating it out. It's not wholly necessary to the narrative, but I like it and I think it adds another dimension to Leo.  
> Huzzah, no more weird, dubiously narrated fever dreams! There was a reason for their inclusion, but the main motivation was really just that I wanted to include how events played out in Birthright & Conquest in this universe, but the way I did it was not the best! They'll still be hints dropped throughout but they won't be as simultaneously explicit yet confusing ;)  
> Also, this marks a major divergence from the original so strap in, enjoy, and bear with me through the twists :p


	7. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corrin goes for a late night walk. Leo delivers the mail. Sakura endures an unexpected guest.

            Corrin dismounted the stairs and moved out into the muted night. Her mind, still muddled from sleep, made predators out of the shadows cast beneath the moon.

            She crept through the night on silent feet. When she had escaped from the shadow of her treehouse, a phantom beckoning bid her to turn.

            Perched on the steps of the treehouse Corrin had left behind, Orochi sat veiled in smoke and fluttering leaves, halfway between the ground and branches. She brought her hands to her mouth and then, when she’d drawn them back into her lap, a whorl of writhing smoke snaked from between her parted lips. The whorl slunk out into the hazy night, thinning into oblivion.

            _“It does no good to dwell,”_ Orochi had said. _“You can’t bring Lilith back.”_

And Corrin knew she was right, but she couldn’t stop the guilt from leaking out into her unconscious mind while she slept. Nearly every night, she’d dreamt of Lilith and was reminded of how her weakness had killed the little dragon.

            None of the others were concerned that Lilith was dead. If it was mentioned, it was only in passing as feeble condolences, but most didn’t bother.

            Her death was a mystery, but the wards were still up and that was all that really mattered. Nobody asked how Corrin felt about it but maybe that was for the best. After all, she couldn’t come right out and say, “I think I was supposed to die and I think Lilith took my place.”

            Corrin couldn’t remember being dead. She remembered sweat covering every inch of her body, the fear that had held her heart as the sky began to fade, and then the antiseptic cold of waking up in her bedroom and the bewilderment of seeing her family and her friends sprawled across the floor, but nothing between. If anything, death had been an unwanted, unanticipated, and utterly dreamless power nap. It had had little impact on her, but had had great impact on everyone else.

            They looked at her like she might shatter.

            It didn’t help that her leg was dead weight beneath her. Sakura had said the leg, which was a mess of scar tissue and wrenching pain, would heal soon enough if Corrin kept off it, but keeping off of it wasn’t a possibility.

            Though running set her teeth on edge and sparring induced tunnel vision of dangerous proportions, Corrin kept at both. There was work to be done around camp, an army to train, unknown territory to be scouted, a god to be killed, and, with Ryoma and Xander present, she couldn’t afford to flinch in her training lest she been seen as weak in comparison. They’d both already made efforts to usurp her leadership, but she kept them at bay if only through the assertion that while the troops may listen to them, they answered to her.  

            _If we weren’t trapped here,_ Corrin thought. _It might not be so awful._

But they were trapped. And it was awful.

            Corrin continued on her midnight pilgrimage, passing by the slumbering barracks. She moved past it with roving reproach, hating it for the congregations of arrogant, foul-mouthed soldiers it housed. When there was a fight, more times than not, it was in the barracks.

            _And it’s almost always over a woman that would rather they leave her alone,_ she thought with a grimace. Soon, the barracks lay behind her and the tavern came into view before her.

             No music or laughter trailed from the tavern, but candlelight shone from the windows. As she passed, the flames went out one by one. She heard the door open. Soft voices bid each other goodnight. 

            Someone called her name. 

            She paused in her stride. Silas walked up to her and then asked, “What’re you doing up so late?”

            _I wish I knew,_ she thought, but said, “I could ask the same of you.”

            “That’s fair!” he chuckled. “I usually hang around the tavern after closing to help with the cleanup. You wouldn’t believe the mess in there! It’s like nobody knows how to pick up after themselves!”

            “That’s awfully kind of you,” she said. And she meant it. Silas was awfully kind.

            In the bright moonlight, she could see the blush spread across his face.

            “Oh, I dunno about that, but that’s my story. What’s yours?”

            _Oh, I just can’t stop dreaming about Lilith,_ she thought but said instead, “I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d go for a walk..."

            And though she’d anticipated a solitary trek, she thought, _I really don’t want to be alone right now._

            “Care to join me?”

            He smiled and then offered his arm to her as he said, “I’d be honored.”

            Their trek to the lake was quick, but was made quicker by Silas’ energetic chattering as he recounted the events of the night. Corrin listened only for the pauses between his stories so that she could respond with a hum so that he wouldn’t know her mind was leagues away, buried beneath a churning wave of dismay.

            _“There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have already.”_

            It had been three days since she’d spoken with Azura and she’d done a pretty decent job of blocking out the conversation, but now, walking alongside Silas beneath the hollow moon, Azura’s words crept from the black to tighten around her heart.

            _“I never told you how my father died.”_

Corrin let Silas lead her through the forest, arm held tight in his, and soon she was drifting through the fog of memory.

            _The first war meeting since the Bottomless Canyon had just ended. The new additions were hesitant to believe the truth of the matter. Ryoma thought she was confused. Xander thought she’d lost her mind. It had been frustrating._

_She had every intention of returning to her room and screaming into a pillow until she’d collected her thoughts into a constructive plan of action, but that dream withered as she caught sight of Azura sitting on the stairs. The songstress stared up into the night sky, lost in thought. Against the backdrop of the ascending steps, she seemed very small and very alone._

            _As Corrin walked nearer, Azura did not draw her attention but watched her with eyes wreathed in darkness._

_When Corrin arrived at the base of the stairs, Azura stood._

_At first, Azura said nothing. Corrin saw the wrinkle on her brow and the severity in her eyes and knew that Azura did not bring happy tidings._

             _“Can we go inside?” Azura asked. “It’s cold.”_

_**No, it’s not,** Corrin thought but nodded and dismissed her retainers. Jakob looked Azura up and down with a scowl, but he left, trailing behind Kaze and Felicia as they discussed the best method for collecting tea leaves. _

_Corrin led the way up the stairs. It was slow going but Azura didn’t complain. It wasn’t until they’d entered her room and Corrin had clambered on top of her desk that Azura spoke._

_“There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have already.”_

The rest of the conversation crested as the trees thinned overhead and Corrin could see the glistening surface of the lake, but it came in broken fragments and disjointed pieces mimicking the shuddering dread she’d felt as she’d heard it.

            _“My father had nightmares. Prophetic ones. He became soft, acting and speaking out of character. He sought out Anankos without the aid of the priests. Anankos laid waste to Valla soon after. My mother was certain that Anankos was in his head. That Anankos lulled my father to his death. I want to be safe. I don’t want to lose you too.”_

The result had been Azura demanding that Orochi be permitted to monitor her slumber to divine the nature of her dreams and Corrin capitulating because Azura had terrified her. Even in sleep, Corrin was not alone, but, so far, Orochi had nothing to report.

            _“But that doesn’t mean anything,” the diviner said. “In some cases of minor possession or bridged minds, and that’s what I’d call this as you aren’t being pushed to do anything beyond your own free will, the epicenter can be hard to root out because it's concealed well within the mind. Or the one responsible is aware that someone’s snooping after them, but let’s hope it’s not that.”_

_“Why?” Corrin asked._

_Orochi’s face soured._

_“If that’s the case, then there’d be nothing I could do beyond reading your burial rites.”_

Corrin had thought of broaching the topic with Leo, but things were weird. They rarely saw each other and, when they did, their encounters were marred by awkward silences and embarrassing misunderstandings.

            _But at least Leo tries to talk to me,_  she thought. _That's_ _more than I could say for_ —

            “Aren’t you going to sit down?” Silas asked her.

            He sat in the grass with his legs crossed in front of him, staring up at her. Long tufts of drooping lavender shuddered in the wind around him.

            In silence, she sank into the weeds and wildflowers beside him. He smiled.

            The moon was barely a sliver overhead, but the stars were thousands in number. There was not a cloud in sight. Crickets chirped between blades of whispering grass. A warm breeze coasted through the peace, but there was no great wind that followed to stir the night.

            Reclining in the cool grass, Corrin searched the sky. More than once, she’d caught sight of a falling star streaking across the vast black night.

            When she was a child, she had spent nights staring out into the bleak sky beyond her window, hoping to glimpse the shimmer of a shooting star. They were said to grant wishes so she had wished on hundreds. But her wish had never come true.

            Now, she watched for shooting stars out of habit. If she saw one, her only wish was that she saw another.

            The back of her neck prickled. She turned to Silas and found him staring at her.

            Beneath the stars, his dark eyes seemed limitless. She shivered, but she wasn’t cold.

            Silas looked up into the sky. 

            “The constellations are gone,” he said. “The ones that you could see in Nohr, I mean.”

            “They’re different here.”

            Her voice was soft. She didn’t will it to be, but it was anyway. The fear that had gripped her earlier ebbed and thoughts of nightmares, mind invaders, and uncooperative Nohrians went with it. A ticklish jittering had taken its place within her chest. She began to bite her lip. The nerves remained.

            She had never felt this way before. 

            There had been awkward flirtations and chaste kisses exchanged with servant boys and passing squires in the Northern Fortress, but she’d never been invested in any of them. They had liked her and she had liked them, but the relationship was always superficial and fleeting. They were always just enough to sate her rebellious streak and leave her to wonder about what love would really be like.

            “Can I ask you something?” he asked.

            Silas still stared up into the stars, but his hands had knotted in his lap.

            “Yeah.”

            Her imagination ran rampant with scenarios of what he could possibly ask her from, _“How do you feel about courtship?”_ to _“Do you think Camilla likes me?”_

            Both tightened her teeth’s grip on her lip.

            “That day, in the Port Town of Dia, did you really not remember me?”

            Her anticipation dissolved across her shoulders. She slouched.

            “I really didn’t," she said. 

            Silas turned to look at her. He smiled. 

            “That’s okay,” he said. “It gave me the chance to get to know you all over again.”

            A breeze jostled loose strands of hair into her face. She brushed them away.

            “I spent years looking for you and I was so worried that when I found you, you’d be completely different than I remembered but you aren’t.”

            She laughed.

            “Are you saying I’m the same as I was at ten?”

            “No! No, not at all! You’ve definitely changed!”

            A retort was on the tip of her tongue, but it dissipated when he said, “You’re a lot… prettier.” 

            In a flush of mingled embarrassment and excitement, Corrin thrashed for a response and spit out, “Are you only noticing this now?”

            “No… it was the first thing that stuck me upon our reunion.”

            “You’ve never mentioned—”

            “How could I? How could I tell you it was love at first sight?”      

            It didn’t seem possible and certainly too sudden. He had only been back in her life for a total of five months and, though she greatly appreciated his company, she didn’t always feel like she knew him very well.

            _But he loves me,_ Corrin thought, but no contemplation or rationalization followed. She could feel the flush of nervousness hot on her neck.

            “Look, I know you’re out of my league. I hope we can at least stay friends,” he said. His eyes were fixed on a tendril of thistle between them.

            “Silas, I…”

            _I like you too and even though I’m not quite where you’re at and you’ve kind of freaked me out a little, I want to see where this thing between us will lead,_ she thought as the words melded and then melted apart on her tongue.

            He stared at her, expectantly, hopefully.

            _Nobody ever said this would be so hard,_ she thought and then admitted, “I don’t know what to say.”

            “That’s okay, I’m sorry I made it awkward,” Silas said but his shoulders hunched.

            “No!” she shouted.

            She grabbed for his hand. He stared at her fingers, wrapped tight around his. 

            “No?”

            Corrin tried to recall all the professions of pining from the smutty books she kept hidden at the bottom of her desk drawers that had made all her blood warm and thick, but she couldn’t. Her mind raced too fast. In a rush of endorphins, she blurted out, “Could you just kiss me?”

            “Kiss you?”

            “Yes, it seems like the appropriate thing, right?”

            “Does that mean you—?”

            His fingers shifted through hers. His hand was warm.

            “Yes," she said. 

            Then, he kissed her and his kiss was a balm on the jagged thoughts that dwelled in her subconscious. It didn’t last long, a few moments of tentative emotion before he drew away.

            “Kiss me again,” she said. Her voice was little more than a whisper.

            And he did.

            They spent the rest of the evening talking and kissing beneath the expanse of stars.   

 

* * *

 

             Leo lounged in an armchair and contemplated the virtue of patience. As the minutes passed and the unchanging landscape beyond the window lost all interest, he found it to be incredibly overrated.

            “She’s late,” he announced when it seemed the only thing possible of breaking the monotony of waiting. He thrummed his fingers against the armrest in beats of three.

            _Perhaps my dedication to meter will hasten her arrival,_ Leo thought.

            He began to hammer out a brisker rhythm. The notes were subdued by the quiet hush settled over the room.

            “She’s always late,” Xander said.

            He sat in an identical armchair beside Leo and crossed his legs in such a way that Leo could not cross his own, lest their feet touch. Leo did not dare call attention to his brother’s posture, knowing that Xander would shift immediately if he did so.

            He didn’t like having to acknowledge his brother’s graciousness. It made him dreadfully aware of his own shortcomings and the debt he’d never be able to repay.

            _I’ll just have to ensure that he ends up in a situation where he’s as good as dead unless I intervene,_ Leo surmised, _and when I do, he’ll need to be completely reliant upon me even though my life is forfeit if I am discovered helping him._

            His brother’s proximity was just one of several nuisances that had cropped up in their sister’s absence, and each pulsated in his mind as the minutes dragged on.

            Across from him, Elise read from the pages of a weathered book that he didn’t recognize but assumed detailed utter drivel like undying love and eternal friendship.

            Every so often, as she turned a page or shifted in her chair, she would hum low and soft, seemingly unaware that she was even doing so. Each little hum grated at his resolve.

            _This is the first time we’ve all been together, conscious, and sane in months and I’d like nothing more than to be rid of them,_ he thought.

            A yawn pulled his mouth long. Then, he laid his head against the back of the chair and, as his eyes closed, thought, _I could probably fall asleep right now and get a full night’s rest before Camilla bothered to show up._

            Leaves rustled outside the window in the starry night. The air around him was warm and heavy on his skin. The scent of languid smoke lulled his thoughts into static.

            “Next time tell Camilla to be here an hour early and she might actually be on time,” Elise said just as he was on the precipice of blissful slumber.

            “I’ll try that,” Xander drawled as Leo jerked upright.

            Elise snickered, holding her book up to her mouth so that her wide eyes peered out overtop of its edge. Leo glared at her. She dropped the book from her face and stuck her tongue out at him.

            “You’ve become such a heathen,” he told her, regarding her with frigid disdain. She looked him up and down and shouted, “At least I’m not ugly!”

            She grinned with unearned triumph. Leo’s scowl quivered. He whispered an incantation.

            Her book rose into the air. She snatched at it, but its ascension was too fast. It bumped against the ceiling overhead. She leapt to her feet. She began to jump at it. When that failed, she climbed atop her chair and stretched her hand up towards it. It was just beyond her reach.

            “Give it back!” she shouted.

            She crossed her arms and stamped her foot against the chair’s cushion.

            “Apologize.”

            “Fine! I’m sorry…”

            Leo leaned towards her, gesturing for her to continue. The book shifted over her head. She scrunched up her lip and yelled, “I’m sorry you can’t accept you’re ugly!”

            He sighed and snapped his fingers. The book slammed against the ceiling. Dust and bits of concrete fell onto Elise’s pristine pigtails. When she gasped in surprise, he snapped again and again until her blonde hair was tinted gray. 

            “Xander!” Elise cried, throwing her arms over top of her head. “Make him stop!”

            “Stop tormenting her,” Xander said.

            Leo glanced at his brother and then snapped his fingers again. Elise shrieked.

            “ _Leo._ ”

            “Oh fine, fine. I’m never allowed to have any fun,” Leo said.

            The book fell to the ground with a thump. Elise jumped from her perch to retrieve it. She picked it up and moaned.

            “The cover’s all ruined!” she said.

            Leo shrugged.

            “And what do you want me to do about it?”

            Elise’s mouth began to tremble. She held the book out for him to see.

            _Shit,_ Leo thought.

            The cover _was_ abysmal. The binding had been shorn off by the uneven ceiling. The title was practically illegible. The stitched floral images looked more like wilted jellyfish than perky roses.

            “Corrin gave this to me!” Elise said and then she wailed, bringing the book tight against her chest.

            Xander fixed Leo with a disapproving glare.

            “What do you want me to do?” Leo asked him. “Elise is the one with a dedication to restoration.”

            “I can’t heal a _book,_ Leo!” she sniffled. “You’re such a jerk!”

            The door flew open with a bang. Camilla strutted into the room and then flopped down onto a chase lounge with a sigh.

            Before a word of welcome could be given, Elise zipped to their sister’s side. She flung the book into Camilla’s lap and shouted, “Look what Leo did!”

            Camilla looked at the book. She ran her manicured fingers over the disfigured flowers. Leo winced, preparing himself for a lambasting.

            _This is going to be just like when I cut off Corrin’s ponytail,_ he thought as he curled his fingers. His nails dug through the soft fabric of his pants and into his legs.

            Camilla looked up from the book. Her eyes leveled on his, then she turned to Elise.

            “I think it gives it character,” Camilla announced, handing the book back to Elise. Leo’s heart sank back into his ribcage. Elise stared at it for a moment and said, “I’ll have to think about it.”

            She returned to her seat, shot a glare at him, and announced, “I’m not mad at you anymore, but you’re still on thin ice.”

            Leo rolled his eyes, but he thought, _It’s comforting that she hasn’t changed._

            “Leo?”

            Leo turned to his brother without comprehending the motivation behind his brother’s invocation of his name. Xander stared at him with a blank expression. He intoned, “The letters?”

            “Ah, yes.”

            Leo stood and then moved to the desk in the corner. After removing his dagger from its scabbard, he pricked his finger. The wound stung. It welled with dark, viscous blood. He sheathed the blade. He drew his bleeding finger across the wood in a broken circle. Then, he began to fill in the other necessary pieces like the words of power and safety.

            Behind him, Elise said, “I hate that you have to do that. Blood-letting for magic goes against everything I stand for as a healer.”

            It was the same tired argument she’d been making since he’d first begun dabbling in blood magic two years prior. It was a lost arcane art and offered limitless possibilities in manipulating the material world. It was also the primary form of magic their ancestors had utilized to escape oppression and captivity in the years before the Dusk Dragon. Besides, all magic required sacrifice of some sort, usually in the form of physical or mental strength. Blood magic was just more overt in showcasing what was being sacrificed.

            Leo had told her all of this, of course, but she refused to see his point. To her, every drop of spilled blood was a failure on her part.

            _If she were truly against it, then she shouldn’t have asked me to send a message for her,_ Leo thought with a grimace as he finished the glyph. Then, he laid his blooded hand flat across it. The lines and runes began to squirm. The wood beneath his hand began to hiss and smolder. He glanced at his siblings, but only Elise’s eyes were on him. Camilla fussed over her nails and Xander stared out the window, both wholly unimpressed with his display.

            _Wow Leo, it’s so cool that you’ve mastered the distortion of time and space to the point that you can transmit solid objects through both using only a minute glyph._

            He imagined this exaltation in both Camilla’s husky rasp and Xander’s low murmur. They continued to entertain themselves with idle fixations as smoke began to fill the room.

“Mail call,” Leo drawled. He lifted his hand and drew a white box adorned with runes from the glyph which burned away without his touch. Before he could even loosen his grip on the box, Camilla lurched forward, knocking him aside. Within a matter of seconds, she had undone the clasps and removed the stack of letters. She flipped through them quickly and set all that were for her atop the desk. When she’d finished, which was rather soon as Leo counted only six letters in total, she sat down in the desk chair and then began to open the two letters addressed to her.

            Of the remaining letters, two were for Elise, three were for Xander, and none were for him. It came as little surprise.

            _The only people who would bother to write me are all in this room,_ Leo thought.

            He watched with a twinge of jealousy as his siblings tore into their letters. Elise read hers quickly, giggling at the first and nodding in contemplation at the second. Xander read his with a guarded expression. Judging from the tension in his face, Leo knew they were from the war front.

            Leo knew only what his brother told him about the civil war in Nohr. He knew they’d beaten his father’s army out of Hoshido, that all but three of the old Nohrian houses had pledged their support for the cause, and that being sequestered to a foreign realm with no way to return home had put a serious damper on his brother’s plans. His army still fought and he still commanded them through orders sent via Leo’s magical mail service, but he couldn’t see to the maneuvers personally and that made all the difference.         

            _It must be straining him greatly to be here while they fight his war,_ Leo thought.

            “Ha! I knew it!” Camilla shouted, disrupting the calm. Then, when Leo and their siblings ignored her, she coughed obnoxiously into a closed fist until Elise questioned, “Knew what, sister?”

            “Corrin’s pet knight has a pedigree that is positively _abysmal_! She simply must stop fraternizing with him!”

            Leo knew his sister was slightly mad. It was a fact of life. The sky was blue. The sun rose in the east and set in the west. Camilla had obsessive tendencies. There was nothing to be done about it.

            _But this is excessive, even for her,_ Leo noted. She caught sight of his sour stare and then shouted, “He’s been sniffing around Corrin _far_ too much for my liking! And now I know why! His family doesn’t even hold a title, let alone _land_!”

            “Oh Camilla, you’re being silly!” Elise said. “Leave Silas be! He makes Corrin so happy!”

            Leo snatched the letter from Camilla. The cramped, nauseating handwriting recounted an entire family history for the past three hundred years. It was incredibly detailed and well researched with references lifted directly from various official genealogies housed in the royal library. All in all, it was very thorough and accurate. It just wasn’t Silas’.

            “Camilla, this is for Cyrus of Windmire, not _Silas_ of Windmire _.”_

She snatched it back from him and then held it up in front of her face, squinting at the tiny print.

            “Princess Camilla, attached is the complete genealogy for Cyrus of Windmire. Hugs and kisses, Margorie,” she mumbled, reading verbatim from the letter. Then, she crumpled it viciously. 

            “Well, I’ll simply have to send off for the correct one,” she announced. Then, she turned and left.

            Xander cursed under his breath and then he followed in Camilla’s wake, crumpling his own letter as he left.

            “You’re welcome,” Leo muttered after them. Then, he sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

            “They appreciate you, Leo,” Elise said. She had refolded her letters and placed them on the armrest beside her book. The sight of the ruined cover made his stomach roll.

            “Camilla told me the other day that she didn’t know what we’d do without you,” Elise continued. “She said that you help us feel normal and not like we’re locked in this antiquated, hellish place.”

            He scowled at the description and then Elise said, “Her words. Not mine.”

            “I figured as much,” Leo mumbled. He directed his gaze out the window, uncomfortable with the stark emotion on his sister’s face. On the other side of the courtyard, light bloomed from Corrin’s treehouse, but no shadows adorned the leaves.

            “And Xander doesn’t say much about it but I know he’s grateful too!”

            Spindly columns of smoke rose above the leaves. They were iridescent in the thin starlight. Exhaustion etched itself into Leo’s spine.    

            “And well, I’m really grateful too. Without you, I wouldn’t know that Cassita and my friends are safe! I would be so icky with worry!”

            Without warning, she wrapped her thin arms around his torso and then squeezed the air from his lungs.

            _Camilla would be proud,_ he thought as a blush darkened his face. He patted her on the top of her head, unsure of what else to do.

            “Don’t you have things to do?” he muttered. She squeezed him tight once more and then backed off with a giggle of “Love you too!”

            Then, she was gone and Leo was left with only a sleepy malaise to occupy his thoughts.

 

* * *

 

             Sakura sat at her desk, staring at the cover of her journal. It was the first time she had looked at it in several months. It wasn’t that she didn’t have the time. Sometimes, she felt like she had an abundance of time and nothing to do with it. She didn’t train with her bow anymore because she could never find Takumi to help and Ryoma didn’t make her practice like he used to. She spent a lot of her time in the infirmary, but even that dragged on. There were few patients and several healers so if somebody _did_ come in, she usually let one of the others take them because they needed more practice than she did. Sometimes, Elise would come find her and they’d hang out together, braiding each other’s hair and chatting about their respective lives or, rather, Elise talked about her life and Sakura pretended to, until one of them had another duty to attend to. Before, Sakura and Elise had spent an abundance of time together and, for a little bit towards the end, Sakura had even begun to enjoy it, but ever since their siblings had joined them, Sakura saw the other girl less and less.

            _But that’s okay,_ Sakura thought. _Things have been weird._

Because they had been. Sakura could no longer truly enjoy her time with Elise. There was always a hanging tension like an executioner’s blade poised to pierce the heart of their friendship. Elise didn’t seem aware of it. She giggled and gossiped like nothing had happened.

_Like she didn’t leave me alone with Corrin’s corpse._

Sakura opened her journal and stared at the last entry from the night her brother had stolen her for a walk. She read the opening refrain and then hastily closed the book.

            _Too much has happened for me to try and catch up now,_ Sakura thought. She stood and then returned the journal into the desk’s drawer. The gold calligraphy of her name flashed in the dim candlelight as she slammed the door shut. She didn’t want to write. Writing made everything real.

            A knock sounded at the door followed by a shout of, “Sakura? You in there?”

            Sakura opened the door quickly, knowing full well that there would be a lot of banging on the door if she didn’t. Her sister leaned against the doorframe. Her fist was raised mid-knock.

            “Oh great!” Hinoka cheered and then she lowered her fist. Her cheeks glowed with gentle humor and her teeth were on full display, flashing bright white between her faded pink lips. The air around her stunk of spirits.

            “I was down at the tavern—”

            _That goes without saying,_ Sakura thought as her sister burst through the doorframe and then made a beeline for Sakura’s bed.

            “With some of the other pegasus knights and somebody, maybe it was Subaki…”

            Sakura closed the door. Behind her, the mattress groaned as Hinoka flung herself onto the bed. Sakura scowled but, when she turned around, she’d scrubbed her face of any ill will.

            “Anyway, somebody brought up that Corrin’s looking really good… Wait, no it wasn’t Subaki—”

            Sakura sat down at her desk. She stared at her sister. Hinoka’s hair stuck out at wild angles. Sakura saw blood streaked on her knuckles.

            “Subaki’s not a creep. You know that! But don’t worry, I decked the guy that _did_ say it but anyway… They said Corrin looks good for someone who was dead not too long ago and that got me wondering if you’d made any headway in figuring out how the hell she’s alive again?”

            Sakura hadn’t. In fact, she tried not to think about it, let alone investigate it. Corrin’s resurrection went far beyond the scope of her abilities as a priestess. She’d merely chalked it up as a gift from the Dawn Dragon and made an effort to honor the deity in her daily routines even more than before.

 _Leo’s looking into it,_ Sakura thought. Elise had told her as much earlier that day at lunch, but Sakura knew better than to suggest Hinoka talk to the Nohrian prince. Her sister wasn’t openly hostile towards the Nohrians like Takumi, but they still were a very prickly subject for her.

            _Especially since she tried to attack all of them,_ Sakura thought.

            “Maybe it has something to do with her mysterious bloodline,” Hinoka mused after a few moments of silence. She swung her legs, sweeping the tips of her boots across the floor. Then, she stopped swinging, adding, “You know, Ryoma was never able to figure out where the hell Mikoto came from.”

            “I know,” Sakura said. Then, she meekly added, “Maybe we should tell Corrin.”

            “Tell Corrin what?”

            “That she’s not our full sister.”  

            Hinoka cocked her head. She stared right at Sakura. Sakura averted her eyes to the contours between her fingers.

            “She knows she’s not.”          

            Sakura shook her head without looking up from her hands.

            “I don’t think so.”

            Hinoka was silent for a moment. When Sakura chanced a glance, she saw that her sister’s face was scrunched in thought. Slowly, Hinoka admitted, “It devastated her when she was younger.”           

            This was news to Sakura. She had only ever heard of Corrin’s childhood days in Hoshido as joyful and peaceful. The revelation of Corrin’s misery clashed with the idyllic paradise Sakura had been led to believe.

            “Well, I don’t think… I don’t think she remembers.”

            “Hmm, somebody should tell Ryoma,” Hinoka said. Then, she flopped down on the bed. The sheets were atrociously rumpled beneath her.

            “You know, Ryoma’s been such a _bore_ since he finally worked up the nerve to tell Kagero how he feels. He _never_ wants to spar anymore. Just wants to play snuggle-bunny with her.”

            _If Kagero makes him happy, I don’t think it’s a bad thing that he spends so much time with her. He never takes time for himself,_ Sakura thought, but she didn’t say anything.

            “And I haven’t even _seen_ Takumi since the day that… Well, you know the day.”  

The mention of their brother set Sakura on edge. The seconds ticked as Sakura grappled with the source of her concern. Hinoka’s breathing elongated.

            “H-hey, Hinoka?”

            “What’s up?” Hinoka asked. Her voice was thick.

            “Have you talked to Takumi recently?”

            “No, why?”

            “I just haven’t seen him around much,” Sakura said lamely. The last time she had seen him had been when he’d come into the infirmary on one of her late shifts with a broken thumb.

            _“How did this happen?” she asked as she set it in a splint. He had refused a restoration._

_“I couldn’t sleep so I went to the arena and did some weightlifting and I dropped a weight on it,” he said. He wouldn’t look at her._

_**This just happened?** she wanted to ask, but she didn’t. She didn’t say anything else besides a meek goodnight and then she didn’t slept at all that night.   _

            “Aw, you worry too much Sakura,” Hinoka yawned. “I’m sure he’s fine. You know how he gets in his little moods sometimes.”

            _It doesn’t seem like a mood. It seems like something’s really wrong, but he won’t talk to me,_ Sakura thought and then she wondered how to articulate her concerns aloud. By the time she had figured it out, it was too late. Hinoka snored softly. Sakura sighed.

            She stood from her chair and then moved to the bedside. She pulled a blanket out from beneath Hinoka’s legs without disturbing her slumbering sister. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and then blew out the candle on her desk. Maneuvering in the dark, she found the armchair in the corner of her room and then collapsed into it.

 _It’s going to be a long night,_ she thought. In the dark, she listened intently to her sister’s heavy breaths, willing them to lull her to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who have read the previous version and are now going WTF after reading this chapter, trust me. I know what I'm doing with this. I think changing the dynamics of Corrin's relationship with Silas allows for a greater payoff in the end and is honestly pretty realistic given her experiences and her relationship with him. It also sets up an interesting comparison between characters and the relationships between them, and I don't even mean just the strictly romantic relationships that are poised to develop, which is really at the heart of this piece. I'm also just really stoked for some of the following chapters so :)))))))))))  
> So I've always kind of felt that Hinoka was another one of those lovely flat Fates characters that deserved a lot more than she got in canon. I understand that saying that after a chapter in which its hinted that she might abuse alcohol is kind of shitty, but I've tried to do a lot more than just make that suggestion in writing her. She's always struck me as the most protective of the bunch, even more so than Camilla because Camilla's actions/words stem from a much more traumatic and insincere place than Hinoka's, and as one of the bros if that makes sense. She's an interesting character and I hate that I can't really give her more space to develop and flourish in this story.  
> Finally, next week's update will most likely be a few days behind because I'm not going to have definite access to the internet for the next week or so! I'm aiming to get it posted around Thursday so keep an eye out for it then!


	8. Hijinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo learns the true meaning of second-hand embarrassment. Kana tries to enjoy his lunch. Corrin holds war council.

            When, earlier that day, Xander had come to him and requested his presence at the arena alongside the Hoshidian royals, Leo had vehemently refused. Numerous times. He couldn’t easily forget the times training with Xander had rendered him a motionless pulp with a bruised ego.

            _“I hate training,”_ he’d said, _“and I won’t have you make a fool of me in front of the Hoshidians.”_

Now, as he trailed behind his brother and the high prince of Hoshido, he had no one to blame but himself. Himself and—

            “What’s the matter, Nohrian scum? Out of breath?”

            _I’ll see you hang for this,_ Leo thought but couldn’t say. The threat shriveled up inside his aching lungs.

            “You do know this is just the warm up, right?”    

            Leo bared his teeth at the Hoshidian. The other boy chuckled and then increased his pace, inching forward. Leo strained to close the gap. His feet were leaden. His breaths were filtered through gritted teeth and stung his raw throat.

            As Takumi drew farther and farther away, Leo’s stride became more and more erratic. Layers of sweat glued his clothes to his skin. With each step, the weight of his clothes worsened, the damp fabric digging into his skin. He grabbed at the collar of his shirt, intending to yank it over top his drenched head, but it clung to the undersides of his arms.

            His pace slowed as he clawed at the wet fabric and quickly became trapped inside the stinking, sweaty threads. By the time he could see daylight from the underside of the shirt, he had come to a complete stop. He wrenched the shirt overtop of his head and then hunched over top his knees as the exertion of his run caught up to him. A breeze froze the sweat on his exposed torso. He shivered violently.

            “Feeling perky today, Lord Leo?”

            As Niles’ biting laugh sounded, Leo hunched over farther, sliding his arms across his chest to hide the source of Niles’ observation from sight. With a blush, Leo thought, _This morning just keeps getting better._

            Then, he choked out, “What the hell are you doing here?”

            “Is the High Lord of Hoshido around somewhere?”

            Craning his neck and peering through long strands of sweat laden hair, Leo took in his retainer’s devious smirk, the malicious glint in his eye, and the unfamiliar book clutched in his hand.

            “No.”

            “So that’s not Lord Lobster running this way?”

            _Shit._

Leo forced himself to stand upright with a wheeze, sure to keep his arms crossed over his chest. His stomach bubbled with dread as Ryoma and his brother approached.

            “Don’t embarrass me,” he spat at the archer, but knew it was pointless to say anything. It was easier to count the times Niles hadn’t embarrassed him than the times that he had. It had only gotten worse since they’d arrived here.

            In the past few weeks, Leo had reprimanded Niles for so many things that the archer’s antics had become one massive headache. There had been the time that Niles had so thoroughly demoralized and emasculated the troops that he had been summarily banned from the barracks. Or the time that he’d convinced the Hoshidians that certain vulgar slang terms were colloquial Nohrian greetings and had been slapped by no less than thirteen women and four men. Or the time Niles somehow managed to teach Elise and her cohorts several “sentence enhancers” that had culminated in her telling Camilla that she was the “best fucking sister in the whole wide world” and then Leo had had to defend Niles from his sister’s wrath even though Niles probably deserved to be ripped apart. Or the time Niles had felt so pressed for mischief that he’d approached Azama to propose an alliance between them but then had spent the rest of that day sprawled on Leo’s floor and bemoaned his own mortality and the implications of free will and human consciousness so loudly that Selena, who occupied the room beside Leo’s, had confronted Leo the next day and told him that if he was going to fuck Niles, could he at least have the decency to gag him first and Leo was so bewildered and stunned by her brazen misunderstanding that he could only capitulate to her demands.

            _Such a pain in the ass,_ Leo thought as he watched Niles bow deeply and dramatically to herald the arrival of the heirs apparent. As he straightened, Leo caught sight of the book’s spine and the words _Royal Relations_ stitched in red thread were vaguely familiar.

            _It sounds the sort of thing Camilla might read._

            His skin began to crawl. 

            _Whatever it is, this isn’t not going to end well._

            Niles’ expression was feral.

            “Lord Ryoma! I bring news!”

            The High Prince regarded Niles with cool disdain.

            _His reputation proceeds him,_ Leo thought just as a hand clasped tight around his shoulder. He turned to his brother’s well-intentioned expression with a searing glare. Then, he shook the offending appendage off with a grimace. Niles coughed into his fist but the edges of his smirk forked out behind his curled fingers.

            _Kill me._

A snicker sounded. Leo turned to find Takumi fast approaching.

            _Kill me fast._

            “Well Niles?” Ryoma said after inclining his head to the younger prince. “Out with it.”

            “Ah, right,” Niles mumbled. Then, he held up his finger, wagged it, and announced with a tsk, “Corrin’s been a naughty girl.”

            The resounding still that followed would have been too much for a monk decades into a vow of silence. Leo could hear individual blood vessels die within his veins.

            Ryoma, much braver than Leo had ever given him credit for, blustered, “What are you talking about?” 

            “I’m talking about your sister’s penchant for public exhibition and my having been an unfortunate witness.”

            At the plethora of dismayed expressions, of which Leo’s was surely the reddest, Niles continued, saying, “I mean, _honestly,_ she’s a grown woman, the leader of this little crusade, and a member of the nobility. She should know that certain things are to be done in the privacy of her bedroom, not the path outside the mess hall.”

            Leo was in no means a prude. As an active young adult, he frequently entertained lewd thoughts, hundreds of them every day in fact, and having Niles as his retainer simply didn’t permit him to be a prude for more reasons than one, but the sheer indecency and absurdity of Niles’ proclamation kicked him square in the chest. There was soup where his brain was meant to be.

            Takumi surged forward, shouting, “Watch what you say about my sister!”

“It’s no fault of mine that your sister’s such a w—”

            “Niles!” Leo shouted as simultaneously, from across the arena, another voice yelled, “Niles! You dastard!”

            Corrin limped towards them. Her hands were clenched and her eyes promised murder.

            _Despite the bloodlust, she looks rather well composed for someone who was just caught in such indecency,_ Leo thought as she drew nearer.   

            “I see you’ve found an audience,” Corrin said. Her tone was light but her expression twisted and churned, in flux between anger and anxiety.

            _I’m surprised Silas isn’t—_

The thought withered and a new one erupted in its place as Leo caught sight of the silver haired knight clad in training fatigues making a fast approach from the other side of the arena.

            _Who the hell was she with then?_

His eyes darted immediately to his brother but Xander had been dragged off by a red-faced Peri. She spoke with her hands. Her fingers were sticky with blood.

            _She’s finally snapped and murdered someone,_ Leo thought with a sneer just as Niles announced, “I thought it pertinent that your brother be made aware of your indelicacy.”

            “No, you sought to humiliate me because I didn’t invite you to join me,” Corrin snapped.  Niles shrugged. Leo scowled as something tightened in his stomach.

            “Really, the Hoshidians should have raised you better—"

            “How dare you!” Takumi interrupted. He stormed forward and then shoved his finger in Niles’ face. “If my sister’s been corrupted, it’s you Nohrians that—"

            “Whoa, wait, that’s ridiculous,” Corrin said, turning on her brother. She pushed his finger down. Niles nipped at the empty air. His teeth were impossibly straight and white behind his full lips. Leo became incredibly aware of the cold air on his skin.

            Takumi grimaced at Niles as Corrin continued, “Camilla may have been the one to introduce me to it but—”

            “I knew it!” Takumi shouted, backing out of Corrin’s grasp. “Sick freaks! All of you!”

            “Takumi. That’s enough,” Ryoma reprimanded. Takumi virulent posture and expression withered just as Silas entered their group, saying, “Now, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I’m afraid I can’t help but take offense to that.”

            “Oh great. I was just thinking this couldn’t get any more embarrassing,” Corrin muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. Leo scowled.

            _It’s her own fault for being so brazen, especially while engaged in a courtship._

He had little patience for cheating. It was because of it that he had been sired and endured so much misery.

            “Corrin, I have to say that I’m disappointed in you,” Ryoma said. He crossed his arms over his chest. Leo rolled his eyes. He’d been in the vicinity of more than one of Ryoma’s holier-than-thou lectures to know what was in the works.

            “Silas is a fine man and it’s shameful what you’ve done to him.”

            Silas’ eyebrows shot up in a comically fast fashion. Leo thought, _Oh, this is just painful._

            “What are you talking about?” Corrin demanded.

            “You know what I’m talking about,” Ryoma said with a shake of his head. “It’s a dreadful thing to cheat on someone, let alone in such a public space.”

            Silas’ expression was one of pure bewilderment and hurt so Leo stared at a particularly interesting rock on the ground instead. He rolled it beneath the toe of his boot. It poked the underside of his toes. Beside him, Niles bounced with malicious energy.

            “What? No! I wouldn’t! I didn’t! Just no!” Corrin protested. Leo looked up at her just as she trailed off, saying, “Why would you even think...”

            She turned to Niles. Leo saw anger in her eyes that he hadn’t seen since they were preteens and he’d lobbed the head off of her favorite stuffed animal.

            “I only said that I caught you in the act. They supplied the act themselves,” Niles said with a shrug.

            “Then what—” Silas began but fell silent under Corrin’s venomous glare.

            "She's reading smut," Niles announced, holding up the book for them all to see. The cover illustration showed a young couple engaged in a passionate embrace with thorns encircling them both.

            “Oh, thank gods,” Silas muttered, deflating and running his hand through his cowlick with a sigh.

            Leo rubbed at his face. This had gone on long enough.

            “Just give it to her Niles,” he said, but Niles held the book aloft, just out of reach of Corrin’s grasping fingers. She cursed him with vehemence as the book bobbed out of her reach again and again. Silas stepped forward but then Niles spoke.           

            “Am I supposed to be frightened of a sniveling wyrmling?” he teased, tapping the spine against the crown of her skull. Corrin stilled and then Leo thought, _Gods, she’s going to kill him._

He took a step forward with a cry for peace on his tongue, but the chance to give it life was snatched from him. Corrin dropped her shoulder and drove it into Niles’ chest. With an expulsion of mingled spit and breath, Niles rocked backwards. The book flew from his grasp. Then, he and Corrin were falling to the ground. There was an extensive thump and then they disappeared into an explosion of dust and dirt. When the dust had cleared, Niles was a foot into the ground. Blood dribbled from his nose. Corrin knelt over top of him. Her chest heaved. Her arms and legs were covered in a fine mesh of glinting silver. The dragonstone around her neck shimmered. 

            Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. The entire arena had quieted around them. Niles’ wet rasping intermixed with Corrin’s hulking breaths scratched at the crisp air. Leo stared at Corrin. His fingers itched for Brynhildr. He chanced a glance towards his hip to see it hanging there.

            When he returned his gaze, Corrin had moved. Within a split second, she had darted to the offending novel and now, with her bare hands, she tore it apart. She dropped the halves and then the wind caught the covers, flipping them open and rippling through all the pages. She looked down at her hands.

            Leo expected her to fly into a murderous rage as the monstrous blood that had lain dormant within her suddenly awoke in ravenous hunger as he had feared she might since he first saw her take dragon form. He did not expect her to yelp and fall over like a pup seeing its reflection for the first time. When her tumble didn’t solve her problem, she began to swing her arms around as if the wind might cure her ails. Leo removed his thumb from Brynhildr as Corrin caught sight of her legs affected by the same malady. She shouted in broken proclamations and then she was on her feet and shaking her hands in his face and demanding, “What the hell is this?”

            Up close, Leo could see that her fingers had curved into deadly claws and that her arms and were now covered in thick scales.

            “I don’t know.”

            “You don’t—?"

            Her screech trailed off as her eyes darted around him. A crowd had gathered and murmured quietly. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. The scales disappeared. When she opened her eyes, she looked just as surprised by the change as he was.

            Behind her, Niles began to stir.

            “Take her to my chambers,” Leo said to Silas. The knight nodded and then Leo turned from him. He knelt by the Niles-shaped-hole in the ground.

            “That bitch,” Niles swore. Leo tsked and then lowered his hand to him saying, “It’s your own fault.”

            Niles scowled at him, but he took his hand.

            “You should put your shirt back on,” Niles said as Leo began to pull him out. “You’re going to blind everybody.”

            Leo’s eye twitched. He released his grip on Niles’ arm. The archer tumbled back down with a slew of curses. Then, Leo left the arena, heading for his room.

            _I have better things to do than stand around and be insulted,_ Leo thought as he pulled his shirt on over his head and tried very hard not to question why Niles’ cruelty cut so deep.

 

* * *

 

            Kana was in the mess hall and he was trying very hard to enjoy his bowl of thick soup because there was actually meat in the soup for once and he had been craving beef for _so_ long but hadn’t had any since he’d left home and the thought of it made his mouth water and here it was right in front of him but Soleil refused to leave him be. Every time he brought a spoonful of sweet, meaty soup to his mouth, she nudged his arm until all the soup had spilled from his spoon.

            “Just go say hi to her!” she whined. “And then talk about how great and special and wonderful I am so that she’ll realize I’m a good catch and _not_ a creep like she may or may not have heard from her skink-faced friend who I did _not_ harass and is a complete idiot for thinking my heartfelt letters were direct threats on her life.”

            “Yeah, it’s not like you explicitly said that you’d watch her take her last breath,” Siegbert mumbled. He didn’t like Soleil’s flirting, Kana knew. He said it made them all look bad and that Soleil was a noble and she really needed to start acting like it because chasing skirts was bad enough, but chasing skirts and striking out tremendously was the most embarrassing thing he could think of and could she please just stop for the sake of his sanity? Kana was often embarrassed by Soleil’s flirting too, though it was usually because she tried to involve him in some way, but he thought Siegbert was being a little too hard on her because she really seemed to enjoy it even though she was never successful and was it really so bad that she expressed herself through doomed acts of love? To him, her romantic advances were a hobby in the same way as Shigure’s singing or Forrest’s sketching or Sophie’s stretching and Kana realized that he really missed home. It didn’t help that Corrin had been dead for a brief, terrible moment. He had heard and he had broken down and he had been sedated and quarantined in the infirmary because his grief had been so tremendous and alarming.

            Now, he was elated that Corrin was very much alive, but it had never occurred to him before that his mama could die and the thought created an all-encompassing dread that stayed in the pit of his belly. He was scared that something had happened to his mama at the same moment something had happened to Corrin and there was no way for him to know if she was alright until they went back home. And none of them, not even Siegbert, could tell him when that would be.  

            “It was a pledge to stay by her side until the last and very romantic!” Soleil protested. Siegbert rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

            “C’mon Kana,” Soleil said with a sharp nudge to his shoulder. “I’ll owe you one! Please? Please? Please?”

            Each please was accompanied by harder nudges.

            Siegbert looked at Kana with scrunched eyebrows and Kana knew this meant that Siegbert was going to say something to get Soleil to stop and Kana also knew that it would make him look even more like a baby in Soleil’s eyes so he had to act fast. Kana threw his spoon down. It was very dramatic. Or rather, it would have been if the spoon hadn’t been brimming with soup and if that soup hadn’t then splattered both the table and everyone sitting around it. It mainly just hit hands, but one guy sitting close to them got a faceful of beef.

            “Sorry!” Kana squeaked. The guy glared at him as he wiped his face clean. Kana was scared that the guy would say something and then Shiro would flip the table and punch the guy in the face like he had when the soldiers had made crude comments about Soleil but the guy didn’t say anything and Kana sighed in relief. Siegbert offered to get rags from the kitchen but nobody took him up on it. They all just stared and Kana felt a twinge of embarrassment for Siegbert. Then, he remembered what had caused the whole thing. He turned on Soleil.

            “Why do I have to do it?” Kana shouted. “If you think she’s so great, then why don’t _you_ tell her?”

            “Kana, I’ve told you this a thousand times. You’re cute. Cute makes girls vulnerable,” Soleil explained, clapping her hands in time with her explanation.

            “That sounds pretty shitty,” Shiro commented. He pointed his spoon, freshly out of his mouth, at Soleil. A little bit of soup hit Kana in the face. Kana didn’t mind. It seemed fair considering he’d doused them all with soup and it was the closest he’d been able to get to tasting the soup yet.

            “Don’t even bother,” Shigure sighed. “I’ve been trying to tell her that for years and she’s never listened.”

            “Shut up Shigure!” Soleil shouted, standing suddenly from the table. “You’ll never understand the pain of having your heart torn into a thousand little pieces by the agony of loving from afar!”

            “You’re so melodramatic,” Shigure huffed, yanking her back down to her seat. A few people were staring. Kana blushed and tried to ignore the mean murmurs that were starting up around them. Shiro stood up and Kana was really worried that he was going to start fighting every mean person in the hall but he wasn’t worried that Shiro would get hurt because he knew Shiro would be the one hurting everyone else. Shiro was the strongest person he knew, well besides his papa, and even though Kana really liked Shiro, Shiro kind of scared him a little. Soleil didn’t seem to notice or care that everyone was staring or that Shiro had left.

            “I am _not_ melodramatic! I’m in love and I… where’s Shiro going?”

            Shiro approached the girl and her friend. When he was at their table, he turned to Kana and mouthed, “Watch the master work.”

            Kana realized he was probably mouthing that to Soleil and not to him, but Shiro hadn’t really looked specifically at Soleil so Kana wasn’t entirely sure who Shiro was talking to so he watched anyway.

             Shiro leaned down towards the girls and Kana focused on his deep, rumbly voice in the chatter of the mess hall.

            “I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch, ladies, but I saw you from across the hall and I just have to ask, do you remember me?”

            Both girls shook their heads. Kana could hear their nervous laughs and felt their nervousness in his chest. He wondered where Shiro knew them from.

            “What’s he saying, Kana?” Soleil hissed, nudging his poor tender arm again. He swatted at her and then shushed her. His shush was a little spitty, but he didn’t really feel bad about spraying her. She wiped at her face and then crossed her arms with a glare.

            At the other table, Shiro shook his head and then brought his hand to his face. Kana couldn’t see his face, but he guessed Shiro was probably doing the doofy little smile he did when he was trying to be charming. Kana had seen it only once before, when Shiro had tried talking to a pretty archer a few days prior, and he was glad he wasn’t at an angle where he would be forced to see it again.

            “Oh, that’s right, silly me, I’ve only met you in my dreams!”

            “What’s he saying Kana?” Soleil demanded. She didn’t nudge him, but Kana could tell she wanted to. He could feel the phantom pang on his arm.

            “He said…”

            Kana lowered his voice to better mimic Shiro’s timbre, but dropped too low and his impression sounded more like a gross caricature than an authentic replication.

            “Oh, that’s right, silly me, I’ve only met you in my dreams.”

            Soleil looked dumbfounded.

            “He did not.”

            “He did!”

            “Did it work?”

            Kana shrugged and then they both turned to look at the other table but the girls weren’t talking to Shiro anymore. The girls had turned to look at Kana’s table and they both pointed at Siegbert. One of them curled her finger towards her when Siegbert looked up. Kana watched Siegbert turn the color of an overly ripe tomato and hold up a hand to rub at his forehead. Kana knew that he was really just trying to hide his face from the girls.

            “Damnit Siegbert!” Soleil shouted. “Stop stealing girls from me!”

            “I didn’t even do anything! Shiro is the one trying to steal them!” Siegbert protested. Soleil looked like she wanted to say something else because her face was all scrunched up and angry, but Shiro began to yell really loud except Kana didn’t hear what because Soleil shouted, “Oh shit!” in his ear and then the redheaded girl threw her bowl of soup on Shiro. Shiro held his arms up, and yelled, “Are you kidding me?”

            Soleil sprang to her feet and then ran across the mess hall. She pushed Shiro aside as she began chatting animatedly with the girls. Kana didn’t care what she said because the terror left with her and he could finally eat his soup in peace. He popped a spoonful into his mouth and was horrified to discover that it was lukewarm and grimy.

            “Have you noticed that Shiro and Soleil are eerily similar?” Shigure wondered. Siegbert scowled. Kana watched them both and swallowed another spoonful of the gross soup.

            “This isn’t another ill contrived attempt to convince you to befriend Shiro,” Shigure announced. Kana trailed his spoon through his soup and watched the bits of meat bob in the thick liquid. Shigure said, “Sometimes, it just seems like my sister is more like Shiro than she is like me.”

            “They’re both hotheaded,” Siegbert said, “but not all siblings are alike.”

            “Yeah,” Kana piped up because he felt like he should contribute, “Just look at my mama and her sisters! They don’t even look alike!”    

            “I know, it’s just that sometimes—”

            Shigure was cut off by an ear-piercing shriek. Kana looked and then saw Soleil was storming towards them. Her shirt was covered in snotty strings of soup. Shiro followed after her, laughing, with a similar stain on his shirt. When they got to the table, Soleil announced, “We’re leaving.”

            Kana shoveled the rest of his soup into his mouth as Shigure and Siegbert got up, shaking their heads. They started off without him so Kana drank the rest of his soup straight from the bowl and then chased after them. He fell into step beside Shiro as Soleil huffed, “The women of this time are ridiculous.”

            “Because you had so much luck back home,” Siegbert said. Soleil spun around to glare at him and she stopped looking where she was going. She collided with another group and then fell down in a mess of limbs, taking somebody from the other group with her.

            “Shit!” Soleil cried from the ground. The boy she’d tackled removed his elbow from her stomach and then said, “Wow, if you wanted to feel me up, you could have just said so instead of running into me.”

            Kana watched Soleil’s face strain pink and then bone white. Beside him, Shiro coughed into his fist, trying not to laugh. Kana looked at Siegbert and saw that he was rubbing his face and Kana hoped that Soleil wouldn’t start a fight but then Shigure pulled Soleil to her feet before she could swing at the boy.

            “I’d leave if you know what’s good for you,” Shigure said to the boy and his friends. Soleil bared her teeth at them. Kana laughed because he knew she thought she looked intimidating but she really looked like a puppy that didn’t know it was little.

            When the other group had left, Soleil dusted herself off. Siegbert said, “Let’s get out of here before you cause any more damage.”

            Before they could leave, a lady approached them. Kana heard her coming closer before the others noticed. She had super long, blue hair and big gold eyes. Kana thought she looked a bit like the porcelain doll that Sophie had and that he’d never been allowed to touch because everyone thought he’d break it. But this lady wasn’t a doll and she looked a lot like Shigure if Shigure were tall and willowy. Kana wondered if she was Soleil and Shigure’s mom but he couldn’t really be sure. He’d never seen Soleil and Shigure’s mom before. They barely talked about her either. Sometimes Shigure would bring her up, but Soleil never did.

            When the lady came up to them, Soleil went really still and tense and Shigure’s lips were pressed together so tight that they were only a thin pink line and then Kana was pretty sure she was their mom.

            “Are you alright?” the lady said. “That looked like a pretty nasty fall.”

            Soleil stared at the lady with an open mouth. Her eyes bulged. Then, she snapped her mouth shut and her eyes narrowed. Siegbert touched Soleil’s arm, but she jerked free and then she turned and then ran through the doors, disappearing from sight. Shigure rushed after her.

            “She’s okay… just having a rough day,” Siegbert said. “Thank you for your concern.”

            His voice was far off and dreamy. Kana thought he looked a little sick.

            “Of course, I hope your friend’s day gets better,” the lady said. “Have a good day.”

            Then, she walked away. Siegbert powerwalked for the doors. Kana glanced at Shiro. Shiro glanced back. He wondered if he should tell Shiro his suspicions about the lady.

            “Weird,” Shiro said. Kana nodded silently, deciding not to share his thoughts. Then, he followed Shiro through the doors.

            Outside, Soleil and Shigure were arguing. Siegbert stood between them like he always did when they argued. Soleil and Shigure’s arguments could get really nasty sometimes.

            “I don’t care if it was rude!” Soleil shouted. “I don’t want anything to do with that hag!” 

            “How can you say that? This is our one chance to get to know her…”

            Kana thought Siegbert might interrupt and say that they didn’t actually have a chance to get to know her because they were all supposed to stay away from their parents, but Siegbert didn’t correct Shigure. 

            “And you don’t want to—"

            “I don’t care! What part of that don’t you get? She didn’t care about us so why the fuck should I care about her?” Soleil screamed. Her fists were balled at her sides. She and Shigure were very close now. Siegbert wedged himself between them. Soleil’s cheeks were white as marble between the vibrant splotches of anger. Her hands shook. Her teeth were bared. Shigure’s nostrils flared. A vein pulsed in his neck. Shigure’s face was red beneath his swoopy blue hair.

            Before Shigure could scream back, Shiro asked, “Wait, was that was your mom?”

            “I know who it was!” Soleil shrieked. Then, she tore off down the path, towards the arena, kicking up a cloud of dust behind her. Shigure chased after her, yelling, “You’re such an idiot!”

            “Shit, sore subject?” Shiro asked, turning to Siegbert. Siegbert sighed. Then, he said, “Soleil is very, uh, sensitive about her mother.”   

            Shiro rubbed at the back of his neck and then announced, “I figured she was dead but I guess that’s probably not the case?”

            Even though Kana could hear perfectly well, he leaned a little closer to them because the conversation was interesting. Despite his years with Soleil, Shigure, and their dad, he had no idea what had happened to their mom. He only knew never to bring it up. He’d tried asking his mama about it once, but she’d gotten really sad and told him that it wasn’t good and then his papa had told him not to ask again because it really hurt his mama to talk about it.

            “She abandoned Shigure and Soleil when they were young,” Siegbert explained. “It’s complicated.”

            “Shit,” Shiro said lamely. His hand fell away from his neck. Kana felt sad. Because Soleil and Shigure never really talked about their mom, he’d always kind of figured that they were okay about the whole thing, but he didn’t think that anymore. He felt like a bad friend.

            “We should probably try to get them to cool them down before they destroy the whole camp,” Siegbert suggested quietly. Shiro nodded and then he and Siegbert started down the path. Kana trailed behind. None of them said anything for a really long time. 

 

* * *

 

            Torches blazed on the stucco, casting long shadows across all of their faces. They huddled around the war table, about thirty of them in all, in a room within the fortress that had been deemed unsuitable to house anything but a large gathering of people. Silence damned the room. There were cracks in the stone that shrieked anytime the wind blew. The Nohrians clung to watery fears of sirens heralding their doom while the Hoshidians held that the shrieking belonged to a dead soul begging to be let in.

            Corrin’s reasoning in picking the room to house the war council was simple. She explained it to Jakob, who maintained that he didn’t believe in something as ridiculous as wayward spirits but admitted he would rather not mess with them, by saying, “If everyone hates the sound then they’ll be that much more willing to find compromise if only to be free of it.”

            Now, as she stood at the head of the table, Ryoma and Xander on either side of her, waiting for the stragglers to file in and staring out at the amassed crowd, she thought, _I hate that shrieking more than anyone._

The combined might of supernatural trepidation from the Nohrians and Hoshidians alike had broken through the veil of her dreams and then spilled out into her waking thoughts. She couldn’t hear it without thinking of Lilith. Her nightmares were getting steadily worse even though the general premise of them remained the same. She was always in a colorless, nondescript room. Lilith was always across from her, smiling serenely. Corrin always tried to call out to her, always tried to warn of the looming danger. There was always a blast of light and smoke and fire and then Lilith always lay on the ground, eyes wide and unfocused.

            When the dream ended, Corrin always awoke with the sense that Lilith could have been saved, but she’d been to weak to do so. Orochi called the notion absurd.

            _“Your dreams are those of grief, not of guilty inaction,”_ Orochi had said when Corrin had proposed as much. 

            Now, as she looked out over the table, Corrin caught sight of the diviner leaning against the wall and chatting amicably with Kagero. They both laughed at something Orochi had said. A twinge of fear bobbed in her throat that maybe they were laughing over the secret things Orochi had seen in Corrin’s dreams.

            Orochi had told Corrin how it all worked, that she could only observe the dreams that Corrin was aware of and had no way of delving into her subconscious, but it all sounded like the nonsense Leo spewed when he tried to explain the functioning of magic and so she harbored anxiety about the whole thing.

            _The last thing I need is Orochi telling everyone how I wet myself at fourteen because a spider crawled on my foot,_ Corrin thought, staring unabashedly at the diviner. 

            She strained to pick up on their conversation, but she could only hear snippets over the babbling of the room. There was something about a carrot. Orochi cackled. Beside her, Ryoma cleared his throat.

“Corrin, about the incident in the arena today,” Ryoma asked. He had kept his voice quiet but, in such a small room with a captive audience, his question carried. Expressions shifted into masks of casual disinterest and gazes shifted to irregularities in the table or to the dust shimmering in corners for the sake of civility. Conversations trailed into nothingness. The walls shrieked.

            “Was Leo able to determine the cause of your…?”

            _Outburst? Deformity?_ Corrin thought with a sting of venom. Her brother wasn’t an idiot. She knew he brought it up so that she could easily dismiss the concerns of the masses in a single, jovial response. She knew how the game worked, but she had no desire to play.

              _But what I want is secondary,_ she thought and then shrugged, saying, “He said it’s probably just a manifestation of my dragon blood. I’m meeting with him tomorrow so he can investigate further.”           

            The air lightened, but not to the point of comfort. Breathing stirred the delicate peace. Another group entered. Their easy chatter invigorated the atmosphere and then easy conversation arose. Corrin glanced around the room, counting heads and identifying those present.

            _Leo, Takumi and Silas are still missing,_ she thought. Leo had told her to expect him to be late and Takumi was temperamental about whether or not he made an appearance, but Silas always made a point to be early.

            _He should have been back hours ago,_ Corrin thought. She turned to Jakob, who hovered behind her shoulder, and asked, “Has the scouting party returned?”

            “There had been no word before I arrived here,” Jakob said. She gnawed at her lip and then continued to do so despite Jakob’s withering glare. She turned back to the table.

            “We should begin,” Ryoma said. Corrin nodded and then found her concern for Silas compounded with the dread of enduring the verbal jousting that was about to commence. War councils had become an increasingly combative affair. Reports of ruins, desolation, and the occasional missing scout held no sway over Ryoma or Xander. To them, there was no war against Anankos and they even refused to call their weekly meetings war councils. For all their differences, they both clung to the notion of escape, refusing her even the smallest victories towards increasing their defenses.

            _But that works both ways. I haven’t given an inch towards increasing scouting parties. We’re at an eternal standstill,_ Corrin thought. She longed to pull rank over the both of them, but knew that the momentary satisfaction would only worsen tensions between them. Their continued cooperation was imperative, both for the soldiers that remained loyal to them and the divine weapons they wielded.

            _“The divine weapons are intrinsically linked. They cannot stray from each other lest your mission be damned,”_ the Rainbow Sage had told her and she’d done her best to keep them together, but their wielders only seemed to resent her for it.

            “I call this council to order,” she announced over the chatter. The conversations silenced at the sound of her voice. It had taken a bit of practice, but she’d finally managed to deepen her voice so that it both carried and commanded. She was still working on carrying herself with significant authority befitting a leader.

            Gunter stepped forward to deliver the general news about the camp, announcing birthdays, improvements to buildings, crop yields, arrests, tournament rankings, and anything else that could possibly be of any importance. As he announced the tavern’s profit for the past week, Corrin noticed Leo among the crowd.

            _He must have snuck in when I wasn’t looking,_ she thought. He stood at the forefront of the group against the table. His attention was fixated on a book laid out on the wood. With a lazy flick of his wrist, the page turned on its own and then revealed an illustration of a monstrous skeleton. There were marginal notes accompanying the drawing in a penmanship that was too delicate to be Leo’s. The longer she stared, the more notes she saw. Arrows pointed to various appendages and bones with incomprehensible notes scrawled beneath. They weren’t written in any language she recognized. Beside her, Gunter concluded his announcements and then stepped back into the shadows.

            “Are there any other announcements?” Corrin asked. The crowd exchanged silent glances. No one came forward. From the corner of her eye, Corrin saw the pages of Leo’s book flip. A new illustration, rendered in full color, popped up of two men with silvery hair and pointed ears standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Only a single note, made in the same strange language, accompanied the illustration.

            “Any updates from the infirmary?” Ryoma asked. Corrin scowled, but said nothing.

            _You can’t let yourself be distracted,_ Corrin chastised. It was a lesson she’d learned well enough the week before when a momentary slip during Gunter’s rambling announcements had led to Xander dominating the rest of the meeting. She’d confronted him afterwards, but that had only led to a near shouting match in the corridor with too many onlookers.

            “Only two serious injuries this week, but neither were from any fighting,” a healer said. Corrin didn’t know their name. Usually, Sakura gave the report as Elise provided moral support at her side. Neither were present.

            _Probably waiting for Silas’ party to return._

            “Good,” Ryoma said and then, before he could say anything else, Corrin said, “The scouts continue to report empty settlements and sterile land. Three scouts are still missing.”

            Restrained rumblings floated around the table. Leo’s thrumming fingers captured her attention as they rapped against the wood.

            “Then nothing has changed from your last report,” Xander said dismissively. Corrin clenched her jaw to stop from glaring outright.

            “Yes,” she conceded, “But the whereabouts of the missing scouts is still our top priority. The first went missing four months ago and there’s been no trace of her.”

            “These things happen,” he said. His blasé tone tightened her lips into a thin line and his impassive stare tinged her sight red so she turned her gaze to the other end of the table. She watched Camilla press the tip of her manicured finger into the corner of her mouth, pulling it upwards in a lopsided smile. Camilla’s eyes were fixated on Xander, the gesture directed towards him. Corrin grimaced.

            _How delusional is she?_ she thought and then announced, “They happen and they’re cause for alarm. These continued disappearances demand we fortify our defenses and increase our patrols.”

            The room shuddered in apprehension at her proposal. The wind shrieked within the brief silence, weaving itself into the fractures in her resolve. Her nightmares of Lilith’s death clawed at her spine.

            _Not now,_ Corrin thought as the feel of phantom sweat draped her brow. Ryoma sighed beside her.

            “Are the wards no longer functioning?” Ryoma asked. His voice was calm and even. He liked to play at being the voice of reason when arguments between her and Xander threatened to get out of hand, but he never spoke a word towards her benefit. Corrin thought, _Just admit your desires are in line with Xander’s and drop the saint act._

            “They’re still functioning,” Corrin answered. Her face hurt from fighting to keep it even. “But we don’t know if they can survive an assault.”

            “What would assault us?” Xander demanded. “You said yourself the scouts have found nothing.”

            “They’ve found no living things,” she countered. “They’ve found plenty of bones.”           

            An edge had unintentionally crept into her voice. She thought, _I make it too easy for him to get under my skin._

            “You say the land beyond this fortress is a mythical kingdom since purged by an evil dragon-king that claims dominion over it, yet you’re concerned by the very wasteland you expected.”

            He never raised his voice when he tore her credibility to shreds. It made her look all the worse when her temper boiled onto her tongue.         

            “By your own admission the very evil dragon-king that purged the land is still out there!” she shouted, heat rising in her face. Irritation flickered across his face, but it was gone in an instant. He never got a chance to retort. A deafening _whomp_ sounded _._ Her hand shot to Yato’s hilt, but then her vision doused her instinct as she located the source of the noise.

            The doors had been thrown open. Silas stood in the void they left behind. As silence resounded, Silas burst through. His hair was disheveled, his lip was split, and his hands shook around a stack of papers pressed firmly to his chest. A sheen of sweat sparkled on his exposed skin and dampened the cloth around his neck. Every head swiveled to look at him, but he didn’t move from the entryway. He only stared at her, silently requesting an audience. She bid the council to continue without her and then moved to join him. Jakob attempted to follow, but she warded him off with a flat palm. As she limped around the table, the debate for fortifications continued with Azura arguing in her stead.

            Up close, Silas only looked worse. His skin had the pallor of a corpse. His eyes were speckled with red and his split lip was puffed and purpled. He leaned too far to the left with his right leg barely touching the floor. The scent of battle since passed swelled in the air around him, choking her demands for an explanation and her concerns for his wellbeing. Blood glistened against the dark gray of his gauntlets.

            “We weren’t prepared,” he said, shoving the papers into her hands. They crumpled in her fist. Silas’ gaze darted to the war council, but he said nothing as he listened. Azura’s voice carried above the others. She accused Xander of being blinded by his ambitions. Shouting erupted. She heard Camilla’s voice above the others, calling Azura a traitor to her heritage. Silas scowled, but whether from anger or anguish, Corrin didn’t know.

            She tore her eyes from the torment on his face. She began to flip through the papers, expecting to find an explanation among them, but there was nothing. The words were illegible. The sloppy, scrawled images were smeared with blood and viscera. There was no indication of where they had come from.

            “What happened?” she asked. His head snapped back to her sharply. His chest rose and fell in uneven swells.

            “The missing scouts. And… others. They attacked us.”

            His voice was strained high and cold and distant. He spoke quietly, but each word blared in her skull.

            “Others?” she asked

            Silas shook his head. His eyes were too bright. Corrin heard Gunter cry for order.

            “There was something wrong with them. All of them. They moved funny. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

            He gestured towards the papers, looking at first like he was going to touch them but then thinking better of it. He said, “Those were in their packs. I didn’t know what to make of them so I brought them to you.”

            She looked at the papers again, staring at the bloody specks. Some still glistened.

            “Are they dead?”

            “I think so,” Silas said.  “I…Corrin I…”

            Suddenly, he took hold of her forearms, staring at her with eyes too shiny and wild, and then kissed her. His kiss was panicked. His mouth tasted like salt. The rough scab of his split lip scraped against her mouth. Surprise kept her eyes open. He lingered. His fingers dug into her bare arms. Then, he lost his balance and had to shift his weigh to his right leg. He cursed against her lips and then it was over. The discussion from the council had halted. The air was stifling. The papers were brittle in her grasp. The intimacy of the moment drowned beneath a wave of scalding stares.

            Silas touched her face, drawing his gauntleted fingers across the curve of her cheek. Her face burned at the sensation of the cool metal. The usual butterflies in her stomach that accompanied his touch were reluctant to soar. The council resumed their conversation.

            “I need to check on the others,” Silas said. He pressed a kiss into her forehead, just above the peak of her brow, and then he turned to leave, hobbling and shuffling through the entryway. The crash of the closing doors heralded his departure. She stared at the space he had occupied. Dust swirled in the soft light. She heard Ryoma say, “We need to finish the war back home before we run headlong into another,” and then Azura yelling, “There’s no way for you to return to Hoshido, Ryoma! And even if you could, Anankos threatens the entire world, the very fabric of reality…”  

            Azura trailed off on a note that was harsh and shrill. Corrin looked towards the table and then saw Azura’s mouth was pinched and her cheeks were flushed.

            _Good to know I’m not the only one,_ Corrin thought. Then, she turned her attention to the gruesome papers Silas had left her. Most of the writing was nothing more than half scribbled words and uncompleted phrases, but there were a few comprehendible sentences.

            _Their faces are gone but they won’t stop wailing,_ read one. Another said, _I see the woman when I close my eyes, creeping on all fours._

            The images were worse. Some were simple pastoral scenes, disfigured by the incoherent thoughts, but others showcased the graveyard Valla had become. One of the more distressing sketches depicted a mass grave full of bleached bones too small to have belonged to adults. Another illustrated the skeleton of a man that had been shorn in half. The break in his spine was not clean. Another still showed the entirety of a thinning tree. Four skulls adorned its bare branches in painstaking detail. They hung at odd angles with their jaws dangling. 

            _They died screaming,_ Corrin thought.

            Then, there were the images that went far beyond the scope of reality. There was a man whose lips had been torn away that cupped the severed, bloody head of a deer lovingly to his chest. His teeth were straight and unblemished. There were human figures twisted into inhuman shapes that crouched within the confines of the paper, scrawled in overlapping black lines. There was a tree doodled in the style of child with hanged bodies swaying from its branches. Each body had arms that were disproportionately long. There were more, but she couldn’t make herself look.

            She moved towards Azura. Words buzzed around her head, but they didn’t stick. Formless pressure mounted between her ears. Creeping dread crawled through her veins.

            “Is Silas alright?” Azura asked when Corrin finally arrived at her side. Ryoma spoke of the necessity for civility. Corrin wasn’t sure who his words were for.

            “He’s alright,” Corrin said. Then, she handed the papers to Azura who took them without protest. She began flicking through them, a question dying on her lips after a stunted, “What…?”

            “The missing scouts found Silas’ party.”

            The words came out in a fog. Corrin watched Azura’s slender hand slide over her open mouth. The other clutched her pendant, trembling. The papers lay discarded on the table. The drawings danced in the black of her mind, conjuring the miasma. Beside her, Azura’s breathing had gone sharp.

            _Silas said the scouts weren’t alone. Are these things out there lying in wait?_

All the Faceless in the world seemed like paltry jests compared to the horror of mouthless men and twisted, disfigured corpses. She shivered. She saw them prowling through the dark wilderness. The wilderness she’d blindly wondered into nearly every night. She saw them darting between the trees, their infernal bodies twisting in the shaded moonlight. Heard them hissing and snarling in tones more guttural than the snuffles of a rutting boar. Felt their bloodless hands curl around her wrists, her waist, her neck. 

“Did Silas have anything to report?” Xander asked, coaxing her back to reality. She looked at him and then wishful thinking painted his eyes in hues of masked concern.

            “His party was attacked.”

            Whispers exploded around them, but she didn’t listen to them. She remained at Azura’s side, watching the bright terror in the other girl’s eyes.

            “By who?” Ryoma demanded.

            “The missing scouts.”

            Pandemonium erupted. Outrage and disbelief coupled together in a violent explosion of sound and motion.

            “Enough!” Gunter cried. Uneasy silence settled. The combined gaze of the crowd had never bothered her until now. It threatened to unravel the steel in her tongue.

            “Something out there drove them mad,” Corrin explained. Azura’s hand shot away from her mouth.

            “Not something,” Azura clarified. “Anankos.”

            Then, Corrin watched Azura turn to the head of the table and challenge the identical bewilderment on Xander and Ryoma’s faces with a fierce glare. Azura seized the papers and then flung them out from her breast. They burst apart in the air, spiraling and corkscrewing across the table. They settled with gentle rustles. The sinister images and words they bore were stark in the uninhibited candlelight.

            “This is what Anankos does. He burrows into your mind and twists your thoughts until you would do _anything_ to be rid of the waking nightmares and terror.”

            Azura shouted, but she didn’t have to. Nobody else spoke. The papers lay untouched on the table.

            “Exposure could have driven these scouts mad,” Xander said. For the first time, his voice wavered. 

            “It could have. But it didn’t. Exposure doesn’t make you see ghouls and monsters,” Corrin said when Azura couldn’t. The other girl’s fingers strained bloodless around her pendant.

            “How can you be certain?” Ryoma asked.

            “All I have left of my father are his insane scribblings. They look just like these,” Azura announced. Silence fell in the wake of her admission. Corrin turned to Leo.

            “Leo, I want you to look into the wards. See if you can amplify them, but make sure they’ll stand strong against an attack.”

            She saw the bob of Leo’s throat as he closed his book with a furtive slam. He nodded unflinchingly.

            “All patrols will be doubled from now on. Nobody leaves the fortress who isn’t part of a patrol and I’m calling for a moratorium on all scouting expeditions until we know what happened.”

            Many around her nodded. Others did nothing. Ryoma’s head was bowed in deep contemplation. His face rippled into a frown. Xander glowered at her.

            “You can’t cower at the first sign of danger. Recalling the scouts would only declare your cowardice and inexperience to the entire world.”

            Each word flared in her chest and broke through the worn lock she’d kept around her fond memories of him. Now, every minute she’d treasured curdled into something as black and foul as the malice of his accusations. She had hoped against hope that everything could be as it was. She had been civil, respectful, had cowed to his every whim and suggestion, had invited him into the fold with open arms.

            _And it still isn’t enough._

            The aura of his frigidity crashed against her and then their audience melted away and it was only him and her within a vast expanse of raw anger and pain and so much hurt. She looked at him and saw how so many could call him cruel and she wanted to scream, _“How could this have happened?”_ but she knew it began with shattered trust and closed hands and hurt that burrowed so deep it simmered marrow. But there was no time to lament the loss so she let her fists curl and her posture coil and her seething frustration bleed into unfeeling fury. 

“I won’t endanger my scouts so that you can keep chasing the hope of escape. You’re stuck here. Accept it. Face the threat that’s in front of you.”

            The faces of the crowd faded back into her periphery, but they were nebulous abstracts of emotion rather than people. She didn’t turn from him.

“This meeting’s over,” she said. The screaming wind sounded through her, through him, through the entire crowd and she thought, _Let it scream forever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In revising this chapter, I did my best to stick to the humor and absurdity that everyone really seemed to get a kick out of in the original version (i.e. Niles being a messy, drama loving bitch) while shaping it to fit the confines of the rewrite! I hope I managed it and didn't disappoint!  
> I love writing the Kana sections. I honestly kinda wish I could just write the entire story in his voice because its so easy to churn out, but, more importantly, so much fun to write! I hope y'all enjoy Kana as much as I do. He's such a sweetheart.  
> Corrin's section in this chapter has probably been one of my favorite parts of the rewrite because I really tried to emphasis her inner struggle through her outer struggle and I feel that this is the first chapter where that really starts to become apparent (that made sense in my head lol). I also am just a big horror junkie so imaging the scribbles and writings of the mad scouts was really just so fun for me.  
> Thanks for sitting through a late update! Life's been crazy! Also, I'm going to be pushing back the weekly updates to Thursday night/Friday morning as it works much better for my schedule and allows me the time to do the fine tuning that I put into each update! I hope y'all's holiday season was fabulous and, if it wasn't, I hope the New Year brings you nothing but love and good vibes!


	9. Precipice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura seeks some peace and quiet. Corrin ventures out from safety.

            A breeze shuffled the dead leaves on the ground and then lifted them up into the air in a symphony of browns and oranges. The earthen, rich aroma of fall was on the wind.

_I wonder if they have winter here,_  Sakura though. So far, there'd been something like spring and then a very long summer had followed but Sakura had no idea what to expect next. It was only last week that the trees had begun to change colors. She supposed that fall was in the works but she wasn't sure how long it would last or what was to follow. The weather here, wherever _here_ really was _,_  was very different from Hoshido.

            Thoughts of home darkened her brow and she wondered,  _Will I ever see the cherry blossoms again?_

            It wasn't a question that was foreign to her. She often considered the possibility that her feet would never again walk the halls of Castle Shirasagi. Her lips might never again offer devotionals to the Dawn Dragon in the heady air of the shrine. Her fingers might never again trace the clouds’ reflections in the crystalline waters of the pond in the castle garden.

            Another gust of wind blew through the trees and pushed her bangs from her face. A leaf caught on her headband. It flitted helplessly against her scalp until she’d plucked it free. Then, she held it in front of her face, peering at the webbing of withered veins beneath the red surface. The wind tugged at it so she let it go. It spiraled up and away into the trees until she’d lost sight of it.  

            _They’ve probably left by now,_ Sakura thought. Her fingers twisted together. She stared down at the lake far below her and made shapes out of the sparkling light dancing on the surface.

            She saw her brother in full battle regalia, red and shining like the early morning sun, and her sister beside him with her hair pulled high and tight above her head like a declaration of war. They had both hugged her, not one-armed squeezes, but full bodied hugs that enveloped her in tenderness. Ryoma had promised they’d be back soon, but his mouth had pinched and then Hinoka had said, _“You damn liar.”_

_“Don’t worry, Hinoka, I won’t let anything happen to him,”_ Corrin had joked, but none of them laughed. She had wrapped her hands in the Nohrian style with white gauze strung rigidly around her wrist and fingers. Sakura hadn’t been able to look at them without thinking, _How can she stand having her hands bound like that?_

A raven landed on a rock near her feet. Its talons scuffed against the stone beneath it and then it turned to the side, staring at her with a single bleeding-gold eye. It cawed once. Then, it took to the sky in a flurry of feathers and beating wings. Sakura watched it soar to the bough of an orange-leafed tree where it landed. Its molten eyes glinted in the sunlight, staring at her from afar.

            Takumi hadn’t come to see Corrin and Ryoma off. Sakura didn’t know where he had been or where he was now.

            _It doesn’t matter. They’re not going off to battle,_ Sakura thought, but she wished they were. Her brother was born for warfare, brimming natural talent and military genius with every breath. Her sister commanded it with sword and talon and rage and power.

            _They’re not going off to battle,_ Sakura thought again and then she thought of dead things that crawled and monsters with the faces of men that wailed and wailed and wailed. When her brother and sister had left, they’d stolen away all the balance in her body. Now, she was untethered in a bottomless pool, flipping and turning within the static.

             A high voice called her name from the woods, stretching the final syllable long and gooey. Sakura didn’t answer. Her stomach growled.

            “Oh, there you are!”

            Sakura didn’t turn to look at her, but she could feel the haze of the other girl’s golden presence deep in her skin. The wind blew honeysuckle and sugar and stardust.

            “You tended those scouts! Don’t you know how dangerous it is to be out here? How did you even get past the guards?”

            Sakura had cleaned their jagged wounds before the others had been called. She had witnessed their souls beginning to unknit before anyone else.

_I know how dangerous it is,_ Sakura thought with flashing eyes, but she didn’t tell Elise that. She said, “The guards weren’t there.”

            “Well if they’d been there, they would’ve stopped you from being so stupid!”

            Elise’s puffed-up bravado didn’t scare her. She had needed to get out. The sounds had become too tinny and the sights too blurry.

            _I had to get out or I would have suffocated._

            “Are you even listening to me, Sakura?”

            Sakura didn’t answer. She could have, but she didn’t. She fixated on the glistening water and then the mosaic of algae and dead waves was a pantomime of Elise rushing at Corrin, catching Corrin around the waist in a bear-hug, dragging Corrin from Sakura, from their family. Again and again and again. Far off, the raven cawed.

            Elise sat down with a sigh that echoed the shifting leaves. Her porcelain hand stroked the long grass in front of her, cresting into the periphery of Sakura’s vision.

            “I know it’s hard.”

            Sakura’s fingers mashed together in her lap.

            “It wasn’t your fault they died, Sakura. It happens sometimes.”

            The soldiers in Silas’ party had died under her care, but it was a miracle that they had even survived that long. She had watched their eyes roll and bulge until their irises dulled and hardened. There was nothing she could do for them except numb their pain. Their bodies had been ravaged beyond recognition. A party of seven had set out, only two had survived. But they didn’t haunt her.

            A fish arced out of the water with a splash. Its slick scales glinted russet in the cool air.  

            “And it’s always hard, but you can’t let it hurt you.”

            _Shut up,_ Sakura wanted to say. _You don’t know what you’re talking about._            

            She kept her mouth shut. Their friendship was too important. People would turn and look when they passed by together hand-in-hand, Elise’s fingers always pulling hard and strong on Sakura’s. Once, Ryoma had put his heavy hands on her shoulders, saying, “Your friendship with Elise gives me hope for the future.”

            But Elise was bossy. Elise was impatient. Elise was loud. Elise was naïve. Elise was overbearing. Elise tried so hard to be bubbly that she spewed nonsense and rainbows constantly. Elise had left her alone with her sister’s corpse and had never realized she’d done anything wrong.

            “The sky’s really pretty today, isn’t it?”

            Sakura took in the saccharine swell of the clouds overhead. They floated past the sun, dipping the world into subdued light. Then, they continued past on their eternal path for the world beyond the horizon. The sky was so blue it had turned to ice.

            “You can talk to me Sakura. You know that, right?”

            Sakura looked at Elise. Her long ponytails hung limp against her ears. The purple strands intertwining with the blonde were more egregious than ever.  Her hands fiddled with the hem of her skirt, picking incessantly at a frayed thread. She slouched, her body bent like a question mark, but her eyes didn’t fold with the rest of her body. Her eyes were focused on Sakura.

            “I think I want to be alone,” Sakura said. Elise blinked. Then, she was wilting. The exuberant color faded from her cheeks. Her soft edges grew foggy until there was no distinction between the rolling landscape and her slim hands. Elise said, “I… Okay. If that’s what you want.”

            She stood. The grass bowed beneath her feet with a gentle shuffling. Then she was gone. Sakura listened to the wind sing her absence aloud and let it surge within her until the hurt was numb and hollow again.

 

* * *

 

             When they had left, the morning had barely begun to break the night sky. Hours had passed in solemn silence. They had passed ashen groves of trees twisted unnaturally from pestilence and negligence, black rivers that burbled and churned, and infertile lands boasting bounties of corpses and crows. Now, the splendor of midday glowed around them, but the wind was foreboding. Corrin’s hair billowed out in a sprawling fan behind her.

            The journey had gone without incident. They had set out with fifteen and fifteen remained, locked in tight formation as they traversed the empty world. Corrin shared point with her brother. The scar on her leg wound tighter with every step she took, but she refused to slow.

            “We saw a village,” Silas had told her. “That’s where we were headed when… when it happened.”

            Silas had spent the night curled against her. The splint encasing his calf had dug into the soft of her belly, but she hadn’t complained. He needed her and so she’d kept him safe.

            “They shouldn’t have died. I shouldn’t have let them,” he’d said into the black of the night as she pulled her fingers through his thin hair. She had held him as he wept, whispering that it wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing more he could have done. The only sleep she had gotten was stolen during the lapses in his misery.

            “Are we nearing the site?” Ryoma asked now. His broad voice boomed in the thin Vallite air. The ground before them was dark with soot. Charred corpses dotted the scorched earth. The stench of seared flesh permeated her mouth so Corrin breathed through her nose. The scout, the only other survivor of the ambush, said, “Yes.”

            The scout was a thin thing, all legs and arms without a solid center. Her hair was a mop of auburn that hung low to mask her eyes. Her arms crossed tight over her chest, hands clinging to the opposite arm so that the skin around her fingers was red and worn. She had not lowered her arms since they had set out.

            Corrin knew she was only alive because her lover had set himself and the land around him ablaze to give the rest a chance to escape. Silas had told her that the scout wouldn’t stop screaming as they fled. When they’d crossed into the fortress and she had fallen silent, he had thought she’d choked on her own grief.

            “Is that it up there?” Ryoma asked.

            Smoldering ruins lay ahead. Noxious wisps of smoke ascended to the heavens. The scout made a small, strangled noise of affirmation. They passed a body that was more charcoal than human. The area around it was jet black. The scout began to weep.

            _I had no other choice,_ Corrin thought. _We needed a guide and Silas can’t run on a broken leg._

            Corrin set her jaw. She led them forward. Soot smeared her boots. The dragonstone whispered staccato against the hollow of her throat, reminding her of the power dormant in her veins. She had not taken her dragon form since the Bottomless Canyon.

            _And I’m in no rush to take it again,_ Corrin thought, but it didn’t matter what she wanted. If they were threatened, she would embrace her blood and she would defend them.

            “You need to accept what you are,” Orochi had told her once after a night spent tossing and turning and screaming. She’d spat it at her like a curse.        Corrin knew the sleepless nights were taking a toll of Orochi, but the diviner would never let it show beyond brittle words. She arrived every night at the same time and bound their subconscious minds together until the wrens sang morning. On the first night Orochi had taken up watch over her, she’d said, “You dream and I watch. It’s old magic. Queen Mikoto said it was a closely guarded secret from her family.”

            _But it’s Vallite magic,_ Corrin thought. _Orochi doesn’t know and Azura won’t admit it, but it is. It has to be._

            But that only complicated things. Nobody could say where Mikoto was from or her family lineage. If she was from Valla, then Corrin was of Valla and so were her siblings and it explained a little bit, like her sensitivity to Anankos and maybe even her dragon form, but it only fostered more questions.

            Acrid air tickled her nose. The ruins lay dead ahead. Embers flickered across the bones of the collapsed structures.

            “Stay sharp,” Corrin commanded. Her brother grunted. Nobody else made a sound.

            There were fifteen of them in all; two archers, two diviners, three mages, two healers, three soldiers, the scout, her brother, and her. She and Ryoma were the only ones to volunteer, him immediately after her. She had begged him to reconsider, but he wouldn’t. Her harsh words the night before had been meant for Xander, but Ryoma had been the one to take them to heart.  He followed her command implicitly.

            The others had been handpicked for their skills, their valor, and their levelheadedness. The mission was a necessity. They needed to know if there were survivors of the initial purge. They needed to know the threat they faced. Silas hadn’t been able to tell them during his debriefing and he certainly couldn’t when she had asked him while he lay against her. He had only talked about the village, how they had nearly reached it, how they had been so focused on it, how they hadn’t noticed slinking shadows circling them, how they had heard screaming, how easily they had been lured in.

            She brought them to a halt at the foot of the ruins. A clear path weaved through the wreckage before them, the blaze seemingly contained only to the buildings. Burned bodies and rotting gore greeted them on the path. She turned to the party.

            “Stay close,” she said, “And keep an eye out for anything that moves.”

            They nodded at her words, but they were apprehensive. The fear coiled in the whites of their eyes. The incident in the arena had shaken their faith in her, she knew. Before, it had been easy to believe that she controlled her power, but, now, it wasn’t. She could tell they were scared of it, scared of her.

            _I’m scared of it too,_ she thought but she didn’t know what she feared more, the dragon or the amalgamation. Leo had said that her reluctance to acknowledge her potency might have been the reason for the claws and scales that had assailed her the day before.

            She stepped foot in the ruins and then continued forward when nothing sprung out to kill her. The others followed in silence. As she continued, Corrin realized that the fire and smoke hadn’t been the only killer in the village. She moved around the corpse of an old man drenched in blood, a black line etched across his throat and then narrowly avoided stepping onto another corpse, a young woman, that lay facedown in the dirt, a spear protruding from between her shoulder blades.

            “Raiders?” Ryoma intoned, but Corrin shook her head.

            “I don’t know,” she said as she chanced a glance back at scout. The scout’s fingers clenched so tight into her forearm that blood tickled down into the crook of her elbow.

            Ahead, the path opened up into a square and then split in three different directions. She moved forward in silence. There were no dead in the square. A fountain burbled in the center with water that was gray and silty. A marble dragon stood amidst the spray. Its helm arched to the heavens. Its tail hung over the edge of its dais, down into the foul water. Stares burned her back. She didn’t say a word in her defense. There was nothing to be said anyway.

            _It looks just like me._

            Ryoma’s hand flattened against her pauldron, but she couldn’t feel its warmth, only its weight. 

            “Keep moving,” she commanded. The pull of the dragonstone was stronger. Its call was fervent in her blood.

            She moved past the fountain, continuing in the same direction rather than branching off in another. Debris cracked under heavy boots.

            Four headless corpses lay in a jumbled pile, blocking the way forward. Their heads were nowhere to be found. As horror solidified within her stomach, Corrin could only stare in the stark silence, wondering if the heads were occupying the branches of a tree somewhere.

            One of the mages became violently ill, vomiting into the ash and destruction off the path. He fell to his knees and then his hands were gripping a singed beam to steady himself as he expelled his breakfast.

            “Let him get it all out,” one of the healers said as she knelt to rub his back. His retching drew a single gag from Corrin, but she managed to clamp down on the nausea. When his hacking breaths replaced the sound of his sick, Corrin announced, “We need to keep moving.”

            She turned back into the square and then bore left. For a while, it was much of the same. Mangled corpses and the smoldering bones of decimated buildings were staples of the landscape. Occasionally, a building would collapse and the noise would startle and deafen her, but nothing ever came of it. They were the only living things for miles.

            _And that scares me more than anything._

            “We should turn back,” Ryoma suggested gently. “There’s nothing to be found here besides more death and destruction.”  

            Corrin nodded and then announced, “We’ve seen enough to know that there’s something out there. Something dangerous.”

            As she turned, a small noise caught her ear. The others continued forward, but she remained rooted in place, listening.

            _It sounded like a person._

            She turned back around, staring down the path that she had decided to forsake. Then, a near silent voice, a _child’s_ voice, rasped, “Please, I don’t want to die.”           

            Corrin leapt into the rubble without a second thought. She called out to the voice, crying, “I’m here! Where are you? I’m here!”

            Ryoma shouted at her, but she ignored him. Her gauntlets were black with soot as she dug and scrounged.

            “Corrin!” Ryoma shouted, but she turned to shush him. The rest of the party stared at her, incredulous.

            “There’s someone trapped! A child!”

            The healers charged into the ruins alongside her. The rest stayed by Ryoma’s side, hesitancy bouncing around them in the wavering air.

            “Corrin, it could be a trap,” Ryoma said. His hand was poised to draw Raijinto. Corrin ignored him even as she thought, _Oh gods, it’s a trap. It’s a trap and I’ve doomed us all._

            The voice rasped again, but she couldn’t hear it.

            “Where are you?” one of the healers called.

            “Here,” the voice rasped again. Corrin saw a small arm flap out of the soot. She vaulted over a downed rooftop. Something in her leg tore, but the flaring pain didn’t stop her from plunging her hands into debris. Pieces of brick and tile flew behind her as she chucked them away. She dug with such vigor that her gauntlets warped around her fingers. The jagged metal drew blood from her fingertips. The soot mixed with the blood. It stung. Tears coursed down her face. The waving arm fell still. The voice didn’t cry out.

            The healers reached her side just as she uncovered a massive beam, trapping a small boy beneath it. His face was caked in soot, blood and snot. His eyes were closed. She could barely hear the hiss of his breath. She grabbed at the beam, pulling and tugging with all her might, but it didn’t budge. The healers tried and then they all tried together, but the beam stayed in place. The boy’s breath faded.

            _He’s dying,_ Corrin thought and then the same feeling that had overtaken her in the arena the day before gripped her now. Her hands surged with vigor and then she was lifting the beam up over her head. She threw it away. It soared across the rubble, landing with a thump. Soot and ash exploded around it to darken the air. Corrin reached down to the boy. The scales and claws sank back into her flesh.

            One of the healers snatched him from her. The other looked at her with a fear that curdled his strong features.

            _I saved him! He would have died without me,_ she wanted to scream, but she didn’t. The others joined them and then the boy began to cough.

            Forrest green eyes stared at her. The healer took a canteen from her belt and then offered it to the boy. He drank in frenzied gulps as the healer rubbed his back and cooed, “Easy now. Take it easy, son.”

            When he was finished, he dropped the canteen. It clanged to the ground, hollow and empty.

            “You’re alright now,” Corrin soothed. He was missing several teeth. He couldn’t have been any older than twelve.

             “Thank you,” he croaked. Then, his mouth began to shake. He tried to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. His body rocked with silent, dry sobs.

            “What happened here?” Ryoma asked as the boy wept. His hand still clung to Raijinto’s hilt. Corrin glared at her brother.

            “They killed my mom,” he said. His voice was laden with smoke and debris. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Her ears twitched.

            “Who did?” Ryoma demanded. The boy quivered in the healer’s arms.

            “The thralls.”

            The wind shrieked around her, whipping her hair against her eyes and mouth. The ruins filled with wet groaning and dry shuffling.

            “What’s… what’s happening?” someone asked, but Corrin didn’t know who. She didn’t look at them. Her stare was focused on the path beside her and the corpse adorning it.

            _It moved,_ she thought. _I know it did. I saw it._

“We need to get out of here. Now!” Ryoma shouted, but Corrin was paralyzed. Her muscles had all locked together in tight refusal. She couldn’t twitch her fingers, couldn’t unsheathe Yato, couldn’t even cry out in alarm or panic or terror. She could barely feel the weight of the hand that latched onto her ankle above the frigid numb of her fear. A corpse, once buried beneath the rubble, clawed at her leg, ripping through her armor like it was nothing.

            "Corrin!" Ryoma screamed. 

            Corrin ripped Yato from its scabbard and then plunged it down into the epicenter of the pain roaring in her leg. Yato sliced through the dead flesh but the corpse didn’t stop. It struck again. Broke her skin. Corrin stabbed again and again and again until the corpse was in pieces. But it didn’t stop.

            The boy screamed. She looked to him. Both healers had been torn apart. Glistening viscera marked where they had once stood. The corpses moved on the boy.

            _You need to be stronger._

            Pulsing might spread from the dragonstone. But she didn’t transform. Not entirely. She was somewhere between dragon and human. She was stronger, tougher, but faster. Deadlier. Her leg didn’t hurt.

            She lunged for the boy, catching him around the waist with one hand and lashing out at the undead with the other. The corpses split in half. They continued to lurch. The boy clung to her. He wrapped his arms around her neck and his legs around her waist. She could barely feel him.

            The others had fled. Only Ryoma fought to reach her. There were corpses everywhere, moving with inhuman grace and speed. She sawed through dozens to reach her brother.

            Ryoma raised his blade to her, asking, “Corrin?”

            But there was no time for explanations. She didn’t know what she looked like. She could sense the mesh of scales around her mouth and beneath her eyes. She guessed she looked like a monster.

            “Run,” Corrin commanded. He did. She surpassed him within seconds, but fell back as soon as she realized the distance. The undead launched themselves into her path. For every one she cut down, twenty more took its place. She lashed out with Yato and talons. Both attacks felt as natural as the other. The boy bounced and jostled, but he held strong. 

            She barreled through the horde. Ryoma barely managed to keep up. She could hear him flagging behind her. She didn’t really _see_ anything. Everything was sound and smell. And, in a smoldering village full of putrefied, mobile corpses, the latter was a curse. She ran. She fought. Her movements were haggard. Her attacks were wild as the aroma of death invaded every aspect of her being. The rest of their party had been torn apart. The scent of fresh kill was on the wind.

            Corrin ran. Her legs whistled beneath her, faster than they’d ever moved before. Her arms flashed quicksilver and scarlet. Yato whirled. Stabbed. Slashed. Ryoma barely kept up. Raijinto spit lightning. The boy keened.

            Corrin ran. Valla was no longer an empty graveyard. Skeletons burst from the crowd. Corpses leapt from the trees. They gave chase, fell into the growing horde behind them. It was immense, stretching off into the horizon. They moved in ways they shouldn’t. Bodies misshapen. Horrifically deformed.

            Corrin ran. The trees became familiar. Here was the meadow she’d first kissed Silas. Here was the lake where she’d taught herself to swim. Here was the apple orchard bearing its fresh bounty of red and yellow fruit. Here was the clearing that the children chased each other and laughed in. Here were the trappings of safety. And it all drowned in the unrelenting tide of the undead.

            Corrin ran. The fortress was hidden from sight, masked by the wards that protected it, but she could smell the crumbling stones. She could hear the stirrings of life. The path seemed to continue forever, but it didn’t.

            Corrin ran and then the fortress sprang into view around her. The sensation was always disorienting, but now, it was maddening. The undead frayed and sizzled against the wards behind her. Rotting flesh exploded when it came into contact with the ancient magic. The boy fell from her hip. He rolled in the dirt and then lay prone. Ryoma collapsed against the wall, panting and clutching his head. Raijinto lay in the dirt. Yato clattered beside it and Corrin, driven half mad by the smell and the pursuit, fell to her knees and shrieked. The sound of it was shrill and resonate. It only worsened the throbbing within her skull. Somewhere close, glass burst and sprayed the courtyard.

            Gunter was there. She heard the pop of his joints as he knelt, smelt the age and years that dragged his face long. His leathered hands touched her armored face. Screams echoed. The horde continued to charge into the wards. Azura was there, dress swaying and skin smelling like running water.

            “You’re safe,” Gunter said, but she couldn’t believe him, not while decay still stung her head. She clutched at his wrists, her taloned hands locking tight around them. She heard the squish, but Gunter didn’t cry out. His fingers fell to touch her jaw, but they strayed no lower.

            “Calm down, Corrin,” he said. There was a crowd now. The wind broke against their backs. She didn’t know whether they gathered to stare at the onslaught beyond the gates or her. Sakura ran to Ryoma, a trail of cherry blossom air stirred in her wake.

            “The boy,” Ryoma groaned. “Help the boy.”

            The boy’s grimy scent was feeble and fading fast. Corrin trembled. The plated scales encasing her grew heavier. She felt like the ground was caving beneath her. 

            Azura began to sing.

            _No, I don’t need this,_ Corrin thought as the song grated against her armor, coaxing it to still and fade. _I’m not unstable._

Gunter’s fingers quivered against her face. His wrists were limp and thin in her rigid grasp.

“Let her help you,” he said, hissing beneath the song. 

Gunter released her face. His hands were swollen and dappled with purple. She fell forward onto her hands, her _human_ hands. Her fingers, flayed from digging, panged at the contact. Blood seeped into the exposed dirt. Her scarred leg was torn, throbbing and screaming in time with her burning pulse. The skin around the tear was warm and wet. Her chest heaved. Every breath tore at her raw throat.

            “Where are the others?” Sakura asked and then the air sparked with the tang of restoration.

            “All dead,” Ryoma said. A woman began to wail. Ryoma stood and then moved to address the crowd. He told them of the village, of the boy’s rescue, of the attack. The horde was gone, blown apart by the wards. It was silent.

            Corrin looked to the boy. His breathing had evened. His eyes seemed brighter. Sakura had moved on to Gunter, healing the bruises Corrin had imparted on him.

            _He can debrief them,_ she thought with a glance to her brother. She crawled to the boy. The horror had faded from his face. He was so young.

            “What’s your name?” Corrin asked of the boy. He stared at her. Beneath the soot and ash, his face was placid.

“Anthony,” he said. “Thank you for saving me.”    

            Her head spun. The pain in her leg had crept up into her spine, irradiating throughout her entire body. Her vision blurred and then she pitched forward, disappearing into the raging dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I had some extra time today and decided to post a day early lol. Depending on how things work themselves out over the next week or so, I might actually change the update day to Wednesday, but that's just a formality really. The story will be updated weekly regardless and isn't that the important part?  
> I know that Sakura may come off as a little immature or whiny sometimes, but I think it's important to remember that she's in the prime of her angsty preteen years and also grapples with horrible shyness so she's struggling to process her concern for her family, her lingering trauma from her sister being stolen away, her duties as a healer (she literally holds people's lives in her hands and she's like in middle school lol), and her own needs. I also think this is because I tend to write her narrations as relatively mature (especially when compared to Kana's never-ending run ons, even though she's not that much older than him), but her thoughts and actions don't necessarily match up to the maturity with which she views and makes sense of the world around her. Sakura is just a really complicated character and I just wanted to get this off my chest lol  
> Next week's update is going to be fun because it's one of my favorite chapters in the story, both in the original and in the update, so I really can't wait to post it and see what y'all think! I mean, I always can't wait to hear y'all's thoughts, but I'm pre-stoked for next week lmao


	10. Cloudburst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo tries (and fails) to do some research. Corrin gets caught in the rain.

            Leo spent more time in the archives than in his own room within the fortress. The smell of yellowing paper and untouched knowledge kept him invigorated late into the night as he studied and read and postulated. Most of his time there was spent alone. At first, a gaggle of teenagers sulked in the lower half of the archives, repairing and rearranging the stacks that they had knocked over before he’d arrived, but they’d finished months ago. Sometimes, Odin would peruse the stacks for “dark tales of evil and woe” or Niles would lounge in one of the armchairs, staring with a dark predation to rival a pack of starving wolves. When Niles was there, Leo could never work properly.

            Leo was alone now, standing in the center of the upper level of the archives, at the point where all the rows converged. Four books hovered in front of him, buoyed by a simple levitation charm, and his gaze roved between them. He read a page of one then moved to another, flipping pages and skipping sections as he found necessary.

            He had been charged with bolstering the wards, but that held little interest to him. Corrin’s mysterious resurrection, her strange quasi-transformation in the arena a month prior, and the undead thralls, the boy from the village called them such and the term stuck, that besieged their forces held his focus. A horde the size of the one that had pursued Corrin and Ryoma had yet to reappear, but the thralls were still a major threat.

            He’d found books on all subjects within the archives, but they were all in ancient Nohrian or Hoshidian. The Nohrian ones were easy to decipher, but the Hoshidian tomes proved more of a challenge. He worked through them at night while he lay in bed until the exhaustion dragged his eyelids shut.

            _All this work and nothing to show for it,_ Leo thought, swiping his right hand. All four books flipped a page. The antiquated language and unfamiliar grammar gnawed at his brain.

            He’d come no closer to an explanation for any of the questions that plagued him. The wards around the fortress were unprecedented. They were like the wards Hoshidian Shrine Maidens summoned during battle to protect themselves as they tended to the wounded, but they were exponentially stronger and somehow permeable so that friendly forces were able to enter and exit at will. He’d managed to extend them out a few miles over the surrounding forest, but he couldn’t make them stronger. Even the small adjustment had been a major risk. One small mistake and the wards could have fried them alive. Lilith seemed to have been the only one capable of manipulating the wards to identify between friend and foe, but she’d left none of her knowledge behind.

            _And Corrin never bothered to ask her about them,_ Leo thought with a scoff. _Just like she never bothered to ask where this place actually is or how Lilith acquired her power or where all these books came from or a hundred other things that would make this whole damn thing a lot less irritating._

Three of the four books proved themselves to be useless, full of information he already knew. The fourth he called to him, catching it deftly as it shot towards him. The others thumped to the ground without his magic to hold them in place. He made his way to an armchair against the wall and then fell into it.

            Carefully inked illustrations decorated the pages in his lap. They had haunted him since he’d uncovered the tome over a month ago. It detailed the supposed history of the dragon knights of yore. The legend of the dragon knights was one which Leo was well accustomed to. His father had wasted years trying to establish an order of the same caliber.

            The book gave little more detail beyond what he already knew but there was a single chapter that drew his eyes again and again. Surrounded by images of dragons and humans alike, its opening read, _“Knights gifted the power of the dragon’s blood are powerful indeed, but those born with it are unsurpassed.”_

            In all his years, he had never seen anyone that looked the way Corrin did. Her colorless hair, her pointed ears, and her ruby eyes were unparalleled. When he was younger, he had once entertained the thought that she might have been a faerie and that was why his father kept her so guarded and secluded, but the notion had passed when fantasies and fairytales were beaten from his head. Beyond that, as he’d grown older, he only ever reflected on her unique appearance was when he overheard bits of conversation that labelled her “weird” or “impish” or regarded her as “exotic” or a “temptress,” and wondered if the remarks ever bothered her. Even her draconic abilities hadn’t provoked him to question her appearance or to consider that they were interrelated. It wasn’t until she’d demonstrated that she could summon her draconic abilities without fully transforming and spurred him into searching for an explanation to her affliction that he’d begun to think about it. Then, he’d found the book and hadn’t divorced the thought since.

            _But it doesn’t tell me a damn thing._

            There was no explanation as to where those “born” with dragon blood originated. They seemed separate from those of royal descent that boasted the presence of dragon blood in their veins because the royal lines couldn’t take dragon form. Leo hypothesized that the book was written before the ascension of the Dusk and Dawn Dragons and the beginning of the Nohrian and Hoshidian royal lines, but there was no way to be sure.

            _All it really means is that nobody like Corrin has existed for millennia,_ Leo thought, but the illustrations kept him transfixed. He ran his thumb across the spine of an anatomical diagram of one of the dragons. It caught on the indented paper, dark with ink, and then Leo wished he had some way to know what the notation said. The harsh underlines implied importance, but there was no way for him to translate it.

            Light footsteps sounded on the stairs. He turned and then watched the steps to discover the identity of his visitor. Blonde pigtails sprouted and then the rest of his sister came into view. He watched Elise glance around the room, her eyes squinting in concentration. When she located him, she smiled.

            “Hi Leo,” Elise greeted, drawing near. Up close, he saw that her hair was dappled with water. He glanced out the window. A gentle shower struck the glass. 

            _When did it start raining?_

Elise wavered between the rows, staring out from the darkness around her. Leo shifted in the chair, thinking, _Should I stand up?_

“Do you mind if I hang out in here with you for a little bit?” she asked. There was something wrong with her voice. It was as chipper as ever but there was a brittleness beneath.

            “Why aren’t you with Sakura?” Leo asked, knowing that her afternoons were spent cavorting with the Hoshidian princess. His sister’s lip trembled. Her eyes misted. She said, “I don’t think she likes me much.”

Thunder boomed outside and then lightning lit up the room. The rain pounded against the windows. Leo thought, _Shit, shit, shit._

            Then, he thought of Camilla, imagined what she might say or do in his place, but knew that she would leap from the chair and then envelop Elise in hugs and fretful cooing.

            _If I tried that, we’d both die from shock._

            “Do you want to… talk about it?” he tried, hating immediately the hesitancy in his words.

            Elise looked at him with soft eyes. The lavender within them had turned liquidous from her burgeoning tears. His throat was full of sand. He thought, _Please, say no._  

            “I’m okay,” she said. “I just cry really easy.”

            She turned from him, looking up at the shelves towering above. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her sleeve. Leo dug his fingers into the armrests, knowing that he’d failed to sate her sadness. The book lay open in his lap, but he had abandoned the mystery it presented.

            Due to the storm outside, the only light came from the faint glow of candles lining the walls. Shadows danced in the flickering light as thunder boomed outside.

            "Have you read all of these?" Elise asked.

            Leo glanced at the endless shelves. There were thousands of books, maybe even tens of thousands. Most of them were written in Vallite which Azura had been able to identify, but not translate. She knew a few words, which she had written out for him along with their meaning, but she confessed that she had no concept of letters or grammar. She had written out three words for him in the lyrical script of twisting curves parsed by upright lines that nearly tricked him into finding Nohrian letters within the swoops. The three words she had written out were savior, child, and god. Savior and child were unfamiliar to his ear, pronounced _nimue_ and _kamui_ respectively, but god he knew well. Azura had written the pronunciation with an unsteady hand.

            _Anankos._

            “Leo?”

            He shook away thoughts of linguistics and then announced, “Someday I intend to.”

            “Wow,” she breathed.

            Thunder rumbled the foundation. Elise moved to the window, staring out at the downpour. Rain cascaded in heavy sheets from the sky and then hit the ground with such force that the droplets split apart, flying in every direction. Tiny rivers began to form in the grass. They streamed out towards the forest. There seemed to be no end in sight.

            Leo leaned back in the chair, still feeling that he should stand but fearing that doing so would only increase the awkwardness in the air, and then he watched the lightning illuminate the finer details of his sister’s face.

            Out of all their siblings, living or otherwise, he had always thought that Elise bore the greatest resemblance to him. Before his baby fat had finally melted away and left a sharp jaw, hollow cheekbones, and sullen hunger across his brow, he and Elise had been nearly identical.

            _But then again, she looks a bit like all of us._  

            As the lightning flashed again, he attempted to conceptualize her face after it had shrunk down to the bones and left her looking gaunt and lean like the rest of them, but the image was too revolting.

            _She’s not meant to get older,_ he thought, even though he knew that it was only a matter of time before their blood took hold to slim and harden her until everyone forgot that she had ever been young.   

            A teardrop escaped her eye, cresting over the swell of her round cheek and then streaking off the cliff of her jaw.

            _Try again,_ he urged himself. His fingers ached from clutching the armrests.

            “Your thoughts seem to be weighing heavily on you,” he observed. It was easier than asking outright after her emotional stare. Elise wiped hastily at her face with the back of her sleeve again, smearing tears across her cheeks. She turned to him. Her lips were quirked, but her eyes were dull.

            "I was just wondering how a storm like this even happens so suddenly," she said.

            Doubt ghosted through his chest and then strained his face, but he didn’t press her. Instead, he turned to the pouring rain, saying, "It's called a cloudburst. It happens when a cold, heavy column of air merges rapidly with a warm column of air and results in sudden condensation."

            Elise stared at him. Sometimes, when people stared at him like she did now, he felt like a freak. He swallowed and then added, "It happens a lot in the mountainous part of Hoshido.”

            “I wish I knew as much as you,” she said. He didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything.

            The storm continued to rage. Leo watched Elise press her fingers against the glass. Her reflection in the window was drowned in somber greens and blues like the stain glass martyrs that decorated the cathedrals in Windmire.

            _It never rained like this in Windmire._

It only ever stormed in Windmire. The rain was always secondary to the bellowing thunder and piercing lightning.

            “Leo?”

            He barely heard her question over the slamming rain.

            “Yes?”

            She had pressed her hand flat against the glass. The rain ran down the opposite side, disappearing into the cold ivory of her hand and then reappearing beneath her wrist, racing down towards the courtyard below.

            “When everything’s over, when we go back home, do you think Corrin will come with us?”

            The answer hit Leo in chest. He felt like he’d been knocked over onto his ass. The thought existed in his subconscious, buried beneath questions and mysteries, but he’d never let it grow. He knew exactly what Corrin would do, where she’d go. It stuck in his throat.

            _Do I tell her the truth or do I lie?_

All he managed was a stunted, “I…” and then the rankling silence suffocated.  

            “That’s okay,” Elise said. “I don’t think she will either.”

            Elise remained at the window, staring out into the storm. Leo sat in the chair, watching her reflection melt over and over again and wishing he could sink into the floor and disintegrate among the dust bunnies and cobwebs.

 

* * *

 

            Before the storm came, Corrin was deep in the woods, desperately trying to remove her sword from the bark of a tree. It had been her doing. She had been experimenting with her newfound power, calling and dismissing the shield of scales and manipulating the output of her draconic blood, but there had been a misguided swing with too much vigor and now her blade was lodged deep into the tree's core. Outside of the adrenaline of combat, she found it impossible to summon her superhuman strength and was left with nothing but the unamplified, coiled muscle in her arms. The sword wasn’t Yato, but it still needed to be retrieved and returned to the arena.

            _Gunter will have a fit,_ Corrin thought as she gritted her teeth, wrapped her hands tight around the sword’s hilt, braced her good leg against the tree, and then yanked with all her might.          The sword didn’t budge. She lost her footing and then tumbled into the mud underfoot. It squelched beneath her. When the sky steadied above her, Xander stared down at her.

            “Would it kill you to help me?” she snapped. The mud was freezing. It clung to every inch of her. The chill of it saturated through her training leathers and down into her skin.

            “You seem to be doing a fine job on your own,” he said, extending his hand to her.

            _Prick,_ she thought, but she took his hand. He pulled her to her feet.

            It hadn’t been her idea to start up training with him again. She would rather have sparred naked with Niles than endure the gaping silences that festered between them, but Leo had made too many good points in suggesting it for her to forsake the idea entirely.  

            _“Xander’s the only one that can take the brunt of your power and not die immediately. Well, besides maybe Ryoma but you’re not nearly as familiar with him in combat,”_ Leo had said. _“Whatever bad blood between the two of you is irrelevant. You can’t afford to let this power go dormant and untrained. Not now that Anankos has shown his hand.”_

He didn’t say that if she’d had a grip on her abilities, then thirteen people might have been saved, but he didn’t have to.

            Corrin swallowed the permeating dread that chilled her more than the freezing mud on her skin and then returned her attention to the predicament of her waylaid sword. It jutted from the bark at such an angle that she had a better chance of snapping it in half than pulling it free.

            “Try pulling it again,” Xander suggested. She scowled at him.

            “And take another mud bath? No thanks.”

            She began biting her lip. Then, she squeezed her eyes shut and thought, _Fire. Big axes. Hordes and hordes of Faceless. Jakob on a humid day. Big wyverns with nasty teeth. Blood and rot and decay and—_

Images of the decimated village and the twisted, shuffling corpses shuttered through her mind’s eye before she’d even fully embraced where her thoughts had shifted to. With a sharp inhale of the cold fall air, Corrin squeezed her eyes tighter and then drove the thoughts down until there was nothing but residual horror. 

“What’re you doing?”

            She opened her eyes. Xander stared at her. Sleepy bemusement hovered at the corners of his mouth. She glared at him. It was instinctual, a natural thing to do given the knot in her chest that formed when she interacted with him, especially since he was often inclined to return the gesture. But he didn’t now. He only looked at her as if he might smile if she said the right thing.

            “I’m thinking.”

            He didn’t respond so she frowned and then began to think again.

            _Charging cavalry. The tang of combat magic. Brynhildr. Garon’s ugly, snarling—_

“Can you think any faster?”

            Corrin opened her eyes into a glare. She opened her mouth to ask what had him in such a godsdamn jolly mood and to shout that she had half a mind to throw her sword at him provided she ever dislodged it from the tree when something cold and wet splashed across her forehead. Her ire shuddered against the backs of her teeth as she slammed her mouth shut. She swiped at her forehead. Her fingers came away wet but otherwise unblemished.

            Then, the rain began. It started as a gentle drizzle, dripping through the leaves overhead to dust her shoulders, but, within a matter of seconds, it grew into a downpour so torrential that even the thick canopy could not protect her.

            Clothes thoroughly soaked and hair so wet that her curls had gone straight, Corrin shouted above the roaring deluge, “There’s an overhang somewhere near here I think.”

            “You think?”

            “I know there is.”

            Then, she set off through the pouring rain. He followed behind in silence. It wasn’t a long trek, but the screeching wind and occasional lightning strike made for a slow trip. By the time she’d found the outcropping of rock, the rain had soaked through her leathers into her undergarments.  

            As soon as she had stepped inside, leaned back, and taken in her surroundings, Corrin tensed against the stiff rock wall. Surrounded by carved graffiti detailing various love affairs interlaced with crude, phallic imagery, she felt very exposed. In her haste to escape the rain, she had completely overlooked the basis of her awareness of the cave. Some months ago, it had been reported that several soldiers were sneaking into the forest late at night. Concerns of mutiny had sent her and Kaze tracking them through the woods and discovering the overhang. It hadn't taken them long to realize that the soldiers had no interest in rebellion but had  _great_ interest in each other.

            Her heart thundered in her chest as Xander eyed the graffiti.

_Gods, don't let him get the wrong idea._

            She couldn’t even imagine what his reaction would be if he thought she was propositioning him. Or how she’d respond if it was agreeable to him. She rung out her hair, staring intently at her drenched curls rather than her companion. The water cascaded from her hair, breaking against the rock underfoot in a splashing fury.

            Movement drew her eye. She watched in stifling silence as Xander removed the wrought iron circlet from his head and then wrung rainwater from his hair with his empty hand. The circlet dangled from his curled fingers. She had never seen him without it.

            He caught her staring, but she turned away before her eyes could betray her thoughts. Her face was on fire. The storm had turned the air muggy. Every breath she took was heavy. As lightning lit up the sky behind the leaves, her thoughts twisted to Silas.          

            _“It’s going to rain,”_ he’d said before she’d headed off into the forest with Xander. His tone was only slightly bitter. He didn’t think she should have started training with Xander again.

_“It’s just going to piss you off,”_ he’d told her when he’d first learned that Xander had accepted her offer. Azura had suggested that Silas’ apprehension was borne from jealousy, but Corrin thought that was ridiculous. Silas had only the upmost respect for Xander. If he was jealous of anything, it was that she wasn’t training with him instead. His leg had long since healed and he didn’t seem to understand why he hadn’t been chosen as her partner.

            “ _You should really consider wearing shoes,”_ Silas had suggested as they stood at the mouth of the forest. She had rolled her eyes and kissed him on the cheek then, but now she regretted ignoring his advice. The grass had been reduced to mud. The walk back to the fortress would be grueling. Going barefoot already meant that she had to set aside an extra ten minutes while bathing to properly clean her feet. Today, it was going to take her far longer.

            Wind ripped through the trees. Errant leaves flew in every direction, some even blowing against her feet. Rain thundered on the canopy and dripped steadily from the leaves, forming shallow puddles on the forest floor. It sounded like hate and wonder in a single crashing heartbeat of water. Though monstrous, the sound of the storm did little to weaken the smothering silence around her.  

            "So, uh, how are you?" she asked, trying to break the silence. He didn’t look at her. The storm held his interest.

            "I'm well."

            "Good," she said quickly, shooing her eyes to the shining floor. She willed the rain away so that the awkwardness might go with it.

            They’d trained every day after her encounter with the undead but their conversations started and ended with passing comments about form and stance. Back at the Northern Fortress, she’d spent entire days talking to him about the world beyond the gates, his life in Krakenburg, his siblings, her studies, books, plays, music, clothes, history, poetry. Every thought that popped into her head, he entertained. Talking with him had once been the easiest thing in the world.

            _I don’t know how to anymore,_ she thought. She bit her lip even though her teeth stung the raw skin beneath it. The habit had gotten worse ever since the undead had laid their hands on her. She could hardly sleep anymore. Most of her nights were spent talking with Orochi until the exhaustion took her and then the nightmares shook her awake. Despite the gruesome scenes, Orochi returned every night to observe her dreams. She had yet to locate anything of concern.

            “The wind’s picking up.”

            Corrin stared.

            “What?”

            “The wind’s picking up,” he repeated.

            “Oh, yeah.”

            She dropped her gaze to the floor, toeing a drenched leaf that the wind had blown in. It was slimy against the calloused skin of her toe.

            “How did you know of this place?” he asked.

            “Oh, Kaze and I tracked some suspicious soldiers here but we found them…”

            Her cheeks burned at the memory. She would never forget the black sun tattooed on one of the soldier’s ass cheeks winking at her in the moonlight, the stillness with which Kaze had regarded the situation, or the coy invitations for her to join. Even now, she caught a whiff of raw sex eking from the stone.

            “Entangled.”

            Xander glanced at their surroundings and then scoffed, “There are much better places for that than here.”

            She couldn’t breathe. Heat crawled up her neck and then spilled out into the rest of her face. When she looked at him, incredulous and stunned, she found him staring at the graffiti. New understanding seemed to dawn on him. Her discomfort deflated in her chest, leaving behind a hot frustration.

            “What’s got you in such a good mood?” she huffed.  

            He still didn’t look at her. She couldn’t tell which piece of crude art had captured his attention, but he seemed enamored by it as he responded, “Am I in a good mood?”

            His voice was slow and resonate, seeming to ask the question more of himself than of her. Then, he finally met her eye. Her joints grew stiff from his gaze and then she thought, _I need to get the hell out of here._      

            “I suppose it’s due to the news that the army’s repelled my father’s forces from Cheve.”

            She had heard him correctly, but the words were tangled. The army hadn’t mobilized since the Bottomless Canyon.

            _And it certainly hasn’t been to Cheve._

            “Army? What army?”

            “The army I organized before I left for the Bottomless Canyon.” 

            He crossed his arms as he said it.

            “You raised an entire army?”

            “Did you think you were the only one that could?”

            She wasn’t sure whether that had been a barbed insult or a harmless jest. She blinked at him.

            “Did you really think I’d leave the country defenseless against my father’s bloodlust?”

            She hadn’t thought about it at all. Her tongue felt thick and viscous. She swallowed.

            “I… Of course not,” she said, but she thought, _I’m an idiot._

            His advocacy for more scouting expeditions and exploration, his vehement opposition to doubling patrols, _everything_ suddenly clicked.

            _He wasn’t trying to run away._

            She tried to imagine the strain of leading an army through words on a page, but the swell of empathetic panic was too great. The rain continued to rage.

            “You’ve never mentioned it,” she said.

            “You’ve never asked.”

            She didn’t appreciate the insinuation.

            “Well it’s not like I ever had the chance to.”

            He stared at her. The darkness blurred his features. He looked more like a bust of marble than a man.

            “You’ve spent a very long time hating me. I’m not an idiot. That doesn’t just go away.”            

            _And it’s not like you’ve made any efforts to make it,_ she added silently.

            The sky lit up in bright fury and, for a single, fleeting moment, she saw something raw and agonized well in his eyes, but she turned from him before the light had faded. When he did speak, his words were slow and deliberate.

            “You didn’t choose us.”

            Her fingernails carved divots into the soft peach of her palms.

            “My family fell apart around me. They blamed me for your decision and for the war that came after. They never admitted to it but they all resented me, hated me. So, in turn, I hated you.”   

            His admission was smothering. There was catharsis in the truth, but it was like a bone being reset. The pain had to blind before it could end. Corrin’s thoughts were rumbling static inside her skull.

            “It was easier than…” he trailed off. In the silence, she turned to him and found only resolute detachment.

            _“He trains his emotions like he trains his sword,”_ Camilla had once said in passing conversation.

            _And its paid off,_ Corrin thought as she tried and failed to parse the emotion behind the mask. The wind brought in a bounty of leaves and twigs to lay at her feet. She watched them wilt as the rainwater puddled atop of them. Then, he said, “You can’t know what it’s like to have the people you love the most refuse to look at you.”

            Her spine stiffened and her hands clenched and there were a thousand things she could have yelled at him to make him understand the stupidity of his comment but she didn’t. She let the anger pool with the rainwater at her feet. 

            “I have a pretty good idea,” she said. He looked at her, stared at her like it was the first time he’d ever seen her, and then that was the end of it.

            They rode out the rest of the storm in mutual quiet. As she listened to the storm’s death throes, a burgeoning warmth nestled into the hollow of her chest. Things felt different.

            _I hope they actually are,_ she thought. Her heart could only break so many times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, so this chapter seemed better in my head now that's its all posted and everything lol.  
> I don't really have much to say for this chapter honestly. Its self indulgent because I love storms and coming up with pretentious descriptions of rain lol. But anyway... I hope you enjoyed! Til next week!


	11. Potency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kana inherits the family bane. Corrin deals with an unexpected enemy. Sakura hovers.

            Kana was bored. Really, unforgivably bored. He lay flat on his back in the boring grass of the boring courtyard and stared up into the boring sky and waited for a cloud to drift past the boring sun to give him something to look at other than the endless expanse of boring blue.

            Siegbert had banned him from doing anything fun and it was so unfair! Well, okay. Maybe he _had_ been getting into a lot of mischief lately but it wasn’t really his fault that the goats had gotten into the kitchen and eaten all the preserves and he hadn’t really meant to start a fire in the armory and yes, he had thrown a rock through the stained glass above the hot springs on a dare, but he couldn’t be held accountable for flooding the building because how was he supposed to know that a storm was going to hit five minutes later?

            There had been other things, but these were the big three that had upset Siegbert the most and now Kana could only go between the mess hall, their room, and the courtyard and if he was discovered somewhere else he’d be in a lot of trouble. Siegbert had even threatened to throw away his collection of interesting things he’d found around camp and kept in a heap beneath his bed and then what would he have to give his mama when he went back home?

            So Kana lay in the grass and dozed off every once in a while even though it was a little chilly out and he thought it was weird that it was a little chilly because he thought it should have still been summer but Shigure said that the seasons probably worked different here and Siegbert said it would’ve been summer in Nohr when it was winter in Hoshido so maybe this place in-between also had seasons in-between the other two and Shiro had said that it didn’t matter anyway and couldn’t they just let him eat in peace without reminding them of how weird this place was and how nothing made any sense anymore because they weren’t in the right past and then Shiro stopped talking because he said he had a headache and Siegbert said it really wasn’t all that confusing because some mage or another had already made discoveries towards proving the existence of alternate realities and then Shiro yelled at him to shut up and then they started arguing and Kana just wished they could get along because they really weren’t all that different but he didn’t think that would ever happen because they both wanted to be in charge instead of working together.

            Kana had said as much to Soleil once, when she wasn’t in one of her bossy or angsty, that was word he’d heard his papa use once to describe Siegbert and his friends and he liked it a lot once he’d asked his mama what it meant because it was fun to say and summed up his older friends really well, moods, and she had agreed with him and had said that she’d tried talking to Siegbert about it once, but he’d said that Shiro was a blockhead and didn’t want to listen to her because he didn’t see the point in wasting time trying to get along with him when he’d already tried that and Shiro just seemed to hate him on principle. Kana had thought about trying to talk to Siegbert too, but he figured he’d just get a similar reaction so he didn’t. He just thought about it a lot and wished that he could hang out with Shiro without upsetting Siegbert because Shiro was funny and he never bossed him around like the others did. But he didn’t like upsetting Siegbert because Siegbert was already stressed out all the time and Kana didn’t like making it worse so he just listened to whatever Siegbert told him like now even though he was positive he was going to die of boredom.

            A group of people walked by and then he heard Auntie Charlotte, who had always insisted that he call her “Auntie” even though he felt weird doing so because she wasn’t really his aunt and he’d told his mama as much and she’d just told him to call her whatever she asked to be called because otherwise he’d just upset her and now that Kana thought about it he didn’t really know if he should be referring to her as Auntie Charlotte now because she wasn’t really the Charlotte he knew. But anyway, he heard Charlotte, he’d decided against calling her Auntie Charlotte because he really didn’t like doing so even when she’d asked, say something about needing to find something but he didn’t hear what that something was because a really loud ribbiting sounded beside him.

            Kana turned his head. A little speckled frog sat in the grass a few inches from his head. Its black eyes were shiny and big. Its little chin ballooned in and out as it breathed. The frog stared at him. Kana stared back and then the frog ribbited again. Kana reached his hand towards it, slowly, because he was scared of it running away. It didn’t flinch. Its eyes swiveled to stare at his approaching finger. It let him touch its bumpy head.

            Kana was amazed. Animals were always skittish around him, rarely coming anywhere near him and _never_ allowing him to touch them. He’d never been taught horseback riding because the horses all hated him and would buck and kick if he so much as looked at them and he didn’t know why animals hated him so much because he would never in a million years even think of hurting them and his mama had said that animals didn’t really like her either and she was sorry that he seemed to have inherited the same thing, but she’d looked more scared than sorry and when he’d asked her what was wrong she just said it was sad that animals didn’t like him and that was it, but he didn’t believe her because his mama’s eyes always wrinkled around the edges when she worried or thinking too hard but he didn’t bother her about it anymore because… Well, he couldn’t remember why now. It had been so long ago. But this frog didn’t seem to hate him. In fact, when he drew his hand away, it jumped closer and then ribbited.

            “Wow,” Kana said. He laid his hand flat in the grass, palm up. The frog hopped towards it and then, after a throaty croak, leapt into the palm of his hand. It stared at him.

            “Wow!” Kana shouted. He jumped to his feet, frog in hand. The frog seemed perfectly content to sit between his curled fingers. As Kana made his way across the courtyard, it ribbited happily. Kana had made it halfway to the arena, where he’d parted ways with the others earlier, when he realized something important. He brought his cupped hand a few inches from his nose and then peered at the little frog.

            “I’ve got to name you,” Kana said. “Every good pet has a name!”

            The frog stared at him. Its chin billowed.

            “What about Emilia, that’s a good name isn’t it?”

            The frog shifted in Kana’s hand, kicking its little legs around until it faced away from him. Kana frowned.

            “Okay, so you’re not an Emilia.”

            The frog turned back around. Its tongue peeped out of its lipless mouth.

            “Hmm, what do you like? Bugs and plants, right?” Kana mused. The frog ribbited.

            “So then what about Daisy? Daisy’s a pretty name.”

            The frog stared at him. Then, it croaked.

            “Daisy it is then!”

            Kana continued towards the arena, gingerly holding Daisy in his outstretched hand. As they walked, he chatted loudly, happy to have a friend that listened.

            “I went to the orchard the other day because it was safe to go there again and I heard that the apples were ripe but I got stopped on the way there by the other kids and they wanted to play hide-and-seek but I didn’t want to play hide-in-seek because I was going to the orchard and I told them that but they seemed pretty cross with me because I’m the best hide-and-seeker so I put off going to the orchard to play a game with them but then by the time they found me it was getting dark and Siegbert told me not to go wandering outside the gates after dark even though none of the bad things can get in so I—”

            “Who are you talking to?”

            Kana stopped walking. He’d been so engrossed in talking to Daisy that he hadn’t even heard the other boy approach and his hearing was really good! Kana had never seen him around before. He was a lanky boy with long arms and he was bigger than Kana but that wasn’t saying much because Kana was really little even though his mama said he should have gotten his growth spurt by now. The boy stared at Kana with narrowed eyes. His eyes were green and Leo thought that was pretty interesting. He didn’t know anybody with green eyes.

            “Huh?” Kana said.

            “I asked who you were talking to,” the boy said and he said it like he was important and that Kana had no choice but to answer. Kana didn’t like this boy. He had a mean face.

            “That’s none of your business.”

            From between his closed fingers, Daisy ribbited.

            “Have you got a frog?” the boy asked, pointing to Kana’s hand.

            “No,” Kana said, putting his hand behind his back.

            “Yes, you have!” the boy cried. He lunged for Kana, but Kana darted away.

            “Let me see it!” the boy shouted, but Kana wouldn’t let him. They shuffled around each other for a few moments and then the boy said, “Fine, if you won’t let me see it. Then I guess I have no choice.”

            Before Kana could even think about what the boy meant, he shoved Kana hard in the chest. The breath whooshed from Kana and then the boy shoved him again. He shoved him so hard that Kana lost his balance and went toppling over. He crashed to the ground. His hand hit the dirt and then his fingers bounced open. Daisy hopped from his palm and into the grass.

            The other boy whistled and then said, “That’s a three-toed speckled frog. They’re supposed to be good luck.”  

            _No! She’s Daisy and she’s my friend!_ Kana wanted to shout, but his chest hurt from being shoved and from falling. Instead, he could only stare as the other boy approached Daisy. He knelt and then extended a finger towards her little speckled head. Daisy stared at the grimy finger as it drew closer and then, when it was nearly on top of her, she reared up and munched down on it.

            The boy squealed. He snapped his hand away. He stuck his finger in his mouth and then sucked on it like Daisy had taken a chunk out of it. Kana laughed as he rolled over onto his belly to stand.

            “You think that’s funny?” the boy asked with a sneer, popping his finger out of his mouth. Spit swung off the fingernail in a gross arc.

            Kana didn’t answer. He knew it was a trick question.

            “Do you think this is funny?”

            The boy raised his foot and then brought it down like a meteor on Daisy’s little head. When he raised it again, the sole of his boot was covered in speckled frog bits and slimy guts. Kana screamed because it seemed like the kind of thing he should do. He didn’t know what else to do with his grief. He’d only just found Daisy. He wasn’t prepared to say goodbye so soon.

            Kana stood. His hands had begun to shake but he wasn’t making them. The boy laughed at him. Rage boiled Kana’s thoughts until there was nothing left but mush and cold fury. His skin began to tingle and then it began to throb. His chest burned and then anger replaced his breath. Kana burst apart, but he came back together, bigger and stronger and completely unhinged. He could see, but not with his eyes. He could hear a thousand voices and the whine of every dragonflies’ wings. He tasted sweat, but also the dirt beneath his feet and the moldering bones even farther below. Daisy’s murderer stopped laughing.

            As Kana threw his head back and roared, he wasn’t Kana anymore. He was something else. And he was angry.

 

* * *

 

            Corrin had been able to enjoy very little alone time with Silas. Their romantic interactions were limited to small hugs in public or kisses stolen during gaps in her busy schedule. Today, she’d managed to cut out a chunk of time between lunch and the war council, canceling her training session with Xander because her back still smarted from him sweeping her legs out from underneath her the day before, to spend entirely with Silas. They’d had about twenty minutes of frenzied kissing and heavy touching before Felicia had thrown open the door, screaming, “There’s a monster in camp!”

            _Of course there is,_ Corrin had thought as she’d thrown on a shirt and grabbed her Yato and nursed her stifled libido. Judging from his jilted expression, Silas had had a worse time of it.

            But now, as she ran through the unnatural path marred by overturned trees and deep scours in the dirt, the heat that had flicked in her chest from his touch seemed like a distant memory. Her leg strained to match Silas and Felicia’s pace. She tried summoning her draconic plating to abate the stiffness, but it resisted her calling.

            _Months of training and still nothing to show for it,_ she thought bitterly as she leapt over a downed tree. The muscles in her leg felt like they might snap. She stumbled and then cursed. Silas stopped, but she shouted, “I’m fine!”

            She began running again but her leg slowed her. She did her best to ignore the singeing pain, but her face was set in a constant grimace. She made it a few more feet before a monstrous roar tore through the still air. Her adrenaline spiked and then power was coursing through her legs. She outpaced them quickly.

            The woods opened up in front of her. She could immediately see Kaze, Jakob, and Shiro with their weapons drawn and then, as she drew closer, she could see Siegbert and the monster. But it wasn’t a monster.

            _That’s a dragon,_ Corrin thought. _A dragon that looks like me._

She had never considered the possibility that there were others like her. The marble statue of Anankos that had sat top the fountain in the square of the burned village frequented her thoughts, but she knew that this dragon wasn’t Anankos. It was almost puny.

            _Is it human too?_ She thought, but then dismissed the notion. There was no time to wonder. It was here and it was dangerous.

            Its massive claws sunk into the soft earth beneath it. Siegbert stood in front of it with his hands raised and empty. His sword jutted from the ground by his feet. The dragon’s eyeless head was aimed his way, but it made no move towards him. It was inches from him.

            The tense peace shattered the second she skidded into the clearing and Jakob shouted, “Lady Corrin?”

            The dragon looked her way and then it whirled on Siegbert. She shot towards him and tackled him just as the dragon lunged. Its claws caught her in the side, but skittered off the scales that had risen there. Still, it hurt and, as she crashed into the ground, she yelled. She gripped at her side and then swiped her fingers over the shallow divots in the plating. The dragon roared. Its form blotted out the sun. It raised one of its front legs. She threw her arms in an x over her chest and then braced them against its foot as it slammed into her. Her skull felt like it might crack open from the tension. It raised its leg and then stared down at her. She sputtered for air. Its expressionless face crept near hers.

            Azura’s panicked, pale face strobed through her mind and then Corrin felt new guilt at the terror she’d instilled within the other girl so long ago in Hoshido. The dragon continued to push against her.

            Flashes of brushed silver danced across the dragon’s head and neck and then careened into the ground, barely missing her face. The dragon roared. Its foot bore down on her again. She caught it between its claws, straining to keep it from driving her into the dirt. Her hands, braided with scales and claws of her own, were miniscule in comparison to its. Blood roared in her ears.

            It lifted its foot and brought it down again and again and again. Her head pounded with each impact. Daggers and shurikens bounced off its thick hide. One hit her in the leg. It didn’t cut, but it distracted her. Her arms wavered. The foot lifted and then she rolled away. The foot slammed into the dirt beside her. Someone screamed, “No! Don’t!”

            The hair on the back of her neck stood up and her teeth tasted like metal and then the sky split in two. Her ears rang.

            Then, the sky was blue again. She sat up. The world spun. A smoking black crater disfigured the grass inches from her right pinky toe. Ryoma lay sprawled on the ground, touching his nose and cursing. Shiro lay just beside him, disheveled and guilty.

            The dragon swayed drunkenly. She stood. The dragon stared at her. Someone shouted her name. Then, she took off. The dragon thundered behind her.

            Her body ached within the mesh of scales. It felt like pulp. Her mind raced.

            She ran without direction. The air in front of her was sweeter than it was behind. She followed it. Trees exploded behind her. Splinters of bark showered her unprotected head. She hadn’t been able to extend the shielding around her head since the day of the burned village. She didn’t know why.

            The tree line grew sparse before her. The horizon was familiar. The lake came into view. She planted her foot and then leapt from the cliff. The wind screeched past her. Then, the deafening splash, the slapping pain as she sliced through the lake’s surface.

            She sank immediately and absolutely. The water rushed past her, grabbing onto the fissures between her plated scales and drowning her. She thrashed in the muted depths, but only managed to turn to upwards. Her lungs ached. Cold water stung her eyes. Pondweeds whispered against her, coaxing her to unravel the armor shielding her from its grasp. There was a far-off splash as she slammed into the lake floor and the uninterrupted green above her became a mosaic of swirling currents.

            The dragon sank just as she had, but it was motionless as the water took hold of it. Corrin could do nothing but watch it sink. Light flashed through the gloom. There was a boy where the dragon had been. His head lulled. The blue scarf around his neck was gray in the filtered sunlight.

            She willed her panic to invade her thoughts instead of her body. Her dragonstone illuminated the murk in dull flashes and then she began to rise. She pushed off of the lake bed. A cloud of silt slunk out of the impact like an ink blot. Her bad leg shrieked in protest. Her chest blossomed with pain. Kana continued to sink towards her. When he was within reach, she wrapped her arm around his chest and then jerked upwards. Her lungs were failing. Her vision dotted black.

            As she broke from the water, she gasped. The air was so fresh that it was raw. Kana was breathless in her arms. His hair had turned silver. She swam for the nearby shore.

            When the water became shallow and the land was hard, she lay Kana on the moist ground. She pressed her ear to his chest. A feeble heartbeat fought to be heard through the bone and sinew.

            “C’mon Kana,” she said between gritted teeth as she pressed down on his chest in hasty rhythm.

            It took only a few compressions. Water burbled from his mouth. He coughed but he didn’t wake.

            Corrin stared at him, but she didn’t understand. He was the same as her, but he shouldn’t have been.

            Lying on the shore, soaking wet, he was so small, smaller than she had ever remembered him being.

            Shouts sounded nearby. Corrin stared at Kana for a moment longer and then she knew what she had to do.

            In a flurry of thumping adrenaline and instincts so blaring they were nauseating, she turned to scrounge through a heap of rocks on the shoreline. She found one with a sharp point and then returned to his side.

            Corrin stared down at the silvery hair that clung to Kana’s face and knew that she would have to work fast. She drew the pointed edge of the rock hard and fast across the curve of his forehead, from the end of his hairline to the tip of his brow. Blood welled from the broken skin. She threw the rock. It sailed out over the placid lake and then disappeared beneath it with only a tiny _plip_ of sound.

            Figures broke from the trees. They shouted her name. She wrapped one arm beneath Kana’s leg and the other beneath his shoulders. She lifted him gently, shifting him so that his head rested against her chest. He was heavier than he should have been. The waterlogged edges of her hair tangled with the fine silk of his. They were the exact same color.

            The three that approached were an odd bunch, but she didn’t question their formation. She didn’t need to know the path they’d taken to find her or where the others were.

            “Take him to the infirmary,” she rasped. Kana’s eyelids flicked, but he did not stir. When Shiro took him from her, she saw that blood had snaked over his eyelids and down across his mouth. Silas came forward, touching her shoulder and asking if she was okay. She ignored him. His hand fell away from her.

            “What happened to his hair?” Shiro asked.

            “Ask the healers,” Corrin snapped. Shiro bristled but then he left without a word, disappearing into the brush. Corrin longed to follow, but knew that would only cause suspicion.

            _I’ll see him soon enough,_ Corrin thought. _I just need to lead them astray_

 _._           “The creature’s still out there,” she said. “It knocked Kana into the water and then it ran away. We’ll need to alert the others and flush it out of the woods.”

            There was a chorus of quiet echoes behind them. Corrin raised a hand to shield her eyes from the harsh sun. Ryoma, Siegbert, Jakob, and Kaze emerged from the woods on the top of the cliff. She squinted at them, but could discern little beyond their identities from such a distance. She walked towards them and then began to conceptualize the wild goose chase she needed to lead them on. Felicia and Silas followed in silence. The ache in her side spread throughout her body until it hurt everywhere.

 

* * *

 

            It had been a slow day in the infirmary before they had arrived. She’d heard about the attack, but only a boy, the one Corrin had rescued from the undead, had been injured so far. He’d suffered from a few scrapes and a mild concussion, but it had only taken a few minutes for Sakura to set him straight. Then, she’d sent him on his way.

            The waiting had come after. She and the other healer on duty had sat together with their heads bowed, praying that none of their loved ones would be hurt.

            Shiro and Kana had come in first. Then, the blue haired brother and sister, Shigure and Soleil. Siegbert had come in some time after. They all crowded Kana no matter how many times she asked them to stay back.

            When he’d been brought in, the boy’s face had been covered in blood, but the wound was shallow and she’d healed it in a matter of seconds. His comatose state and sudden change in hair color presented more of a challenge.

            His ears were pointed, not as steeply as Corrin’s but they peaked in an uncommon fashion.

            _Were they always pointed?_ Sakura wondered, but she didn’t know. She’d never spent time with him and seldom saw him around the camp. Though, she did know that his hair had been a mousey brown. Now, it was a vibrant silver.

            _The same as Corrin’s._

            Her sister sat in the cot beside the boy. She’d asked that the curtains be drawn around them so that she and the children were masked from sight. Sakura watched their warped silhouettes move in the thin fabric. They whispered, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. At first, she’d thought that maybe Corrin wanted to discuss the monster, but now she didn’t think so. It had gone on too long and too secretly.

            Corrin’s retainers had dragged her in about half an hour prior, shouting that she’d been struck hard.

            _“I’d have healed her myself but it’s pretty serious and I’m scared I’ll muddle it up,”_ Felicia had said as she’d forced Corrin down onto the cot. Corrin had let her retainers strip her armor without a peep. When Sakura had stepped forward to examine the injury, Corrin’s retainers flitted around her like gnats until Corrin had dismissed them all. Jakob had been the last to leave after she had drawn him near to whisper into his ear. Once they’d departed, Corrin had held her shirt just beneath the swell of her breasts as Sakura prodded at the bruised skin marring her side in thick, purple slashes.

            As the muffled conversation continued, Sakura crept closer to the drawn curtains, pretending to change the bedding on the cot nearest their hushed voices.

            “We’re not lying!” Soleil hissed. “We don’t know how he’s like that!”

            The girl’s shadow shook as she threw her hands up in angry frustration.  
            Then, the infirmary doors banged open. Sakura jumped. Her hand smacked over her heart. Jakob stood in the doorway, a bundle wrapped in red clasped in one hand. He glared at her as he moved across the room. He yanked the curtains open, revealing three red faced teenagers, one dour blonde, a tense Corrin, and a very disoriented Kana, and then snapped them closed again with a flourish.

            _Jerk,_ Sakura thought. She returned to her post by the door. The other healer had left before Corrin had been brought in so she sat alone against the wall. She watched her sister’s silhouette take the bundle from Jakob and then saw something thin and dangling removed from the wrappings. The murmurings continued, but she couldn’t hear anything.

            Before long, Elise came to relieve her. Sakura stared at her and her questions surrounding her sister’s odd behavior fizzled as she wished the other girl would make a move towards reinstating their friendship.

            _I should have just kept my mouth shut,_ Sakura thought as Elise walked past her without even a glance in her direction. All the sour feelings she’d harbored towards Elise were gone now that they weren’t friends anymore, but she didn’t know what to do or say to make it better. Every instinct to apologize came too late. Too much time had passed.

            _I doubt she even cares,_ Sakura thought as she left the infirmary for her room. _I doubt it made any difference to her._

It didn’t matter anyway.

            “I’m better off on my own,” Sakura mumbled to herself. She repeated it in whispers to herself throughout the rest of the day until she could look at herself in the mirror without hating the girl that stared back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you all to know that it hurt me to hurt Kana. The poor little cherub deserves nothing but love and sunshine, but, unfortunately, the world isn't love and sunshine :((((  
> Yayyyy more angst for Corrin to deal with lmao. Sometimes, I fear that I push her too hard, but its fine. Everything's fine.  
> The worst realization I've had while writing this was "Oh fuck, Sakura's me when I was thirteen" but maybe that's just the socially-awkward 13 year old mood? I dunno.  
> Anyway, anybody see that new FEH banner? I can't stop thinking about Camilla's fucked up little spaghetti arms and I need the validation that they've bothered someone else lmao.


	12. Reverie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo stargazes. Corrin deals with another challenge.

            Leo wasn’t sure exactly how he and Corrin had ended up sprawled in the courtyard with the cold stars winking high above them. They’d met for their weekly discussion, him reporting the progress he’d made in investigating the wards, which was none, and her detailing the advances she’d made towards controlling her power, which were numerous, but it had ended quickly and now they were here bracing the wind and the chill to stare up into the night sky. If he squinted, he could almost imagine they were back at the Northern Fortress, having snuck past the guards and Gunter to marvel up at the stars.

            _“That one’s called the Maiden,” he said. Each constellation he named, he pointed out with his index finger, giving the glowing figures their form. Corrin cooed as he traced a cluster of seven stars peeking out from the spire atop the fortress._

_“And there’s the Leviathan.”_

_He pointed to wide swath of stars, twenty-four of them in total, that curled together to form the mythical beast. Her lack of response turned his head. She stared up, but her nose was scrunched in gentle distaste. She turned to him. The tip of her long ear brushed against the dirt._

_“That one’s kinda ugly,” she said._

_“You’re kinda ugly,” he retorted. They were both thirteen. Harsh insults were their deepest form of affection._

_She snickered._

_“You look like the Troll!” she said, tracing a rough outline of the constellation and then bursting into rambunctious laughter. Leo shushed her, but he was giggling so it came out like a wheeze._

_A window near them suddenly blazed. Leo squashed his hands over his mouth. Corrin bit down on her fist. Both their shoulders shook with silent laughter. Leo’s belly hurt. His face was streaked with tears. He never wanted to leave her side or forget the laughs and the fun he had only with her._

But the stars were different here. The Maiden and the Leviathan and the Troll were nowhere to be seen in the inky expanse. Sometimes, he’d look into the night and his eye would trick him into seeing the Exalt or the Ranger but, after he’d blinked, they were always just inscrutable formations. He had always taken the constellations he’d known for granted. Now that they were gone, he was untethered.

            _They were the one thing that convinced me of mother’s humanity,_ he thought and then, _Maybe that’s why I miss them so much._

             He was six when they’d dragged his mother to the gallows. Sedition was the charge. He’d been too young to understand the things she’d done, the children she’d murdered. She was relentlessly cold and unnecessarily harsh, but she’d taught him to make shapes of the stars.

            _I still loved her when she was executed._

            Leo turned to stare at Corrin rather than dwell in the past. She bore little resemblance to the stout girl who frequented his memories. Her face, once so chubby and rotund, had waned to a scaffolding of delicate curves. The mess of tangles and snarls that had cost her many lectures from Camilla was now a river of silver stretching out from her scalp. Her lips had once seemed too small within the scope of her plump face, but now were full and bowed.

            _We’re not thirteen anymore,_ Leo thought but then he was saying, “You know, I heard they modelled the Crone after you.”

            He watched her eyes flash in indignation. He snickered. Lazy recollection drifted across her face. Then, her features sharpened. She chuckled, saying, “Prick.”

            The moon was only a crescent overhead. He didn’t know if that meant anything important. He knew that new moons represented rebirth, but that was the extent of his lunar knowledge. Camilla was into star signs and lunar phases, but he couldn’t stand to listen to her ramble about it. When he told her as much, she would tsk, “Such a Cancer!”

            He turned his head in the brown grass to stare at the winking lights from the windows of the fortress. The entire stone façade had been bright with dazzling candlelight when they’d first ventured out into the elements, but now only a few windows boasted the glamour of artificial yellow and orange. It was quiet.

            A month had passed since the dragon had ravaged the camp. Corrin had begged him to say it had broken through the wards, but it hadn’t. It had come from within, Leo was certain it had, but she wouldn’t say why she was defending it or who it was.

            _And I didn’t press her,_ Leo thought. _I trust her._

He glanced at the icy breath crackling in the sky above her and then amended, _I think._

            Corrin met his eye and then shifted in the brittle grass. She brought her palms hard and fast over her arms. She shivered.

            “Do you want to go inside?” he asked. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked. She shook her head. 

            He had a theory about why she wanted to stay in the cold, but it was another theory of his that had driven them out into the cold to begin with.

_It was a rough theory, borne of late nights and dubious research, but it wasn’t a bad theory. He had formulated it in only a few hours after translating a passage from a book that’d he’d found collecting cobwebs atop one of the shelves in the archives._

_As he sped to his room, clutching the book in one hand and his notes in the other, he exuded untampered eagerness. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so accomplished._

_**Probably when I used Brynhildr for the first time with vomiting,** he thought as he banked around the final corner before his bedroom. He glanced at the setting sun and then hastened his pace._

_**I’m going to be late.**_

_He arrived at his room moments later to discover that he had been beaten there. The door was cracked. He nudged it open._

_Corrin stood before the window, staring out into the courtyard and flexing her arms. Platerd armor appeared and disappeared across her hands and forearms as she did so. Leo froze in the doorway, marveling at her control._

_**She’ll have it mastered soon,** he thought.   _

_“Corrin,” he greeted, but she did not turn. He said her name again. Still, she ignored him. His eagerness flushed into wickedness. He crushed his notes in his hand. Then, he lobbed the crumpled paper._

_It hit her in the back of her head. She whirled around, burying one scaly hand into her hair to touch where the paper had hit. As she glared at him, he announced, “The Vallites practiced necromancy.”_

_Corrin stared. There was no trace of armor on her arms._

_Leo moved to his desk in the corner of his room. He slammed the book onto the table and then flipped to the pages he’d dogeared and scribbled on. Corrin came to his side. She laid the crumpled paper beside the open book._

_“I can’t read that,” she admitted. She was biting her lip again. She bit it so often now that the skin beneath it was constantly pink. Leo couldn’t fault her for it. His nails were practically nonexistent._

_“That’s fine,” Leo said. Then, he shut the book with a bang. He grabbed the paper ball and then smoothed it out so that it was wrinkly but flat. She leaned around his shoulder to peer at the note. He watched her face crinkle._

_“Do you know anything about necromancy?” he asked._

_“Um, I know that it’s bad.”_

_He nodded enthusiastically and then said, “Yeah, it’s really dark stuff. Iago tampered with it to create the Faceless, but that was more of a transference than a resurrection and—”_

_He could tell that he’d lost her. She pretended to understand, but she always scratched at the back of her hand when she was confused. She’d done it ever since they were children. He backtracked._

_“Okay, so that passage I just showed you discusses the failure on the part of ancient Nohrian sorcerers to mimic what they called ‘revival rituals’ but revival can also be translated as resurrection depending on the inflection on the—”_

_Corrin’s eyes were squinted. Her nails scritch-scratched across the thin skin beneath her knuckles._

_**Focus!**_

_“Anyway, this says that because of the sorcerer’s strong religious convictions, they failed to resurrect the only heir to the throne.”_

_“Religious convictions?” Corrin intoned. Leo nodded and then he said, “This postulates that those performing the ritual have to invoke the silent god.”_

_“Anankos,” Corrin breathed. The back of her hand was red with thin, crisscrossing scratches._

_“Yes. It stands to reason that the thralls we face now are a result of Anankos’ degradation and a bastardization of his most sacred power.”_

_Leo tapped at his notes where he’d written “thralls equal degradation” several times over and then circled multiple times in a fit of realization. He turned to Corrin. She stared through the wall before them. She asked, “The Dawn and Dusk Dragons… they couldn’t raise the dead?”_

_He shook his head._

_“No. They had their respective powers, but neither could reach across the veil.”_

_Corrin was silent for a long while. Leo opened the book. There was a passage that articulated the limitations of the Dawn and Dusk Dragons much better than he could. He scoured his hastily scrawled marginal notes for the translation, but Corrin spoke before he could locate it._

_“So, is Anankos responsible for me?”_

_“For you?”_

_“For me still being alive.”_

_He stared at her. He hadn’t meant to lead them down this path. He hadn’t done enough research to make a conclusion._

_**But she deserves to know what I do.**_

**** _He admitted, “I’m not… I’m not sure. It’s possible, all the elements are there.”_

_“Elements?”_

_“According to this—”_

_He laid his hand flat against the book’s yellowing pages. They were brittle, resisting his touch._

_“The ritual could only be performed in very specific scenarios and, well, you were resurrected at dusk, your, uh, death had been unjust, you had been dead for less than twenty-four hours, Lilith loved you selflessly—”_

_“Lilith?” Corrin interrupted. Her voice was thunderstruck._

_Leo shrugged, but immediately regretted it. He knew Lilith’s death had been hard for Corrin, even if she’d only mentioned it in passing. Leo swallowed his blunder and then explained, “She died under mysterious circumstances and, out of everyone, she’s the only one I’d say even knew it was possible.”_

Corrin had been silent for a long while after that. It had been his idea to venture beneath the stars, wanting to give her space to process everything he’d dumped on her, but not wanting to leave her side. He had never been good with the emotions of others. He’d locked his down so deep that he seldom acknowledged them.

            Beside him, Corrin jolted upright. He startled and then he heard the crunching grass and the encroaching footsteps. He sat up.

            Silas walked towards them. His slicked cowlick glinted in the moonlight. While he drew nearer, Leo watched as Corrin, who had previously been a solemn statue of sullenness, contorted her face into a demure smile. Leo scowled. Silas stopped just before Corrin’s outstretched legs.

            “Corrin, there’s a situation that requires your attention,” Silas said. Then, he turned to Leo, looked him over once, and then announced, “You should come too. It’s not good.”

 

* * *

 

            As Silas led her and Leo across the courtyard, the night air was especially harsh on Corrin’s skin. The temperature had been steadily dropping all week, but it still hadn’t prepared her for the bitter cold that it heralded. Every inch of her was numb. She shivered incessantly as she walked, but it did little to warm her.

            “One of the soldiers attacked the others in her patrol,” Silas announced. “Then she walked into the barracks and confessed.”

            Leo cursed. Corrin swallowed thickly and then asked, “Where is she now?”

            Silas pointed ahead of them to the squat, black building.

            “Chained up in the jail.”

            “And the soldiers she attacked?”  

            “Three of them died from their wounds, but one of them in in the infirmary right now. The healers said it doesn’t look like they’ll pull through.”

            “Gods,” Corrin breathed. Frosted grass crunched beneath the soles of her boots. They pinched her toes together, forced her into an uneven gait, and muted the feel of the earth underfoot, but Jakob had made too many good points about the dangers of frostbite for her to forsake them.

            _And they make me taller,_ she thought. _So they can’t be all that bad._

            “Why did she confess?” Leo asked from beside her. His words were directed for Silas, who stood on the opposite side of her, so he shouted them across her.

            “I don’t know, but there’s something… off about her,” Silas said. “It’s best if I just let you see for yourself.”

            Corrin brought her hands together and then raised them to her mouth, spewing a cloud of hazy vapor over them. It made no difference. Her fingers were brittle icicles that crept their cold up into her arms.

            Silas nudged her with his elbow and then offered his gloves to her. She shook her head. They were almost to the jail. Leo kept glancing at her like he expected her to burst into tears. His eyebrows were drawn together and his face was grooved with worry lines. She ignored him. He’d been doing it all night since they’d set out to stargaze.

            Corrin didn’t know what to do with the information Leo had given her so she didn’t do anything with it. It sat in the epicenter of her thoughts, anchoring the swirling mess of her consciousness to a pulsating, rattling unknown. If there was anything she knew for certain, it was that Lilith deserved better.

_There’s always something._

            Tranquility seemed a foreign concept to Corrin. Her days were plagued with constant stress ever since Kana’s untimely transformation. She feared he’d be outed as a freak or she’d be discovered obscuring the truth or another dragon would make an appearance. She'd begged Ryoma to keep quiet about what he'd seen and he'd agreed, with the promise that the conversation wasn't over. It was a conversation she had been avoiding with gusto.

            Every passing hour, the truth seemed harder to conceal.

            Kana clung to her relentlessly despite her attempts to shoo him away. Even now, shrouded in the dark and cold, Corrin half expected him to come flying out of the trees, waving his hand-me-down dragonstone aloft for everyone to see. She had pressed Siegbert, who she had pegged as the leader of the bunch, for the truth about Kana’s origins and, when that inquiry had proved fruitless, she had proceeded to question the other three, but their stories were all the same and all too rehearsed. She had long doubted their stories, but had foolishly let it slide, believing them to be the least of her worries. Now that it mattered, all the idiosyncrasies seemed all the more sinister. Their forged weapons, their extensive training, and the high-borne language they all, except notably Shiro, used had all seemed odd quirks until Siegbert and Shiro had tried to corral a rampaging dragon without concern for their own wellbeing.

            _They know he has the same ability I have,_ Corrin thought. _And they know I know._

Corrin always felt like she was treading water but her legs were tiring and her head kept bobbing beneath the waves. Every new problem that arouse threatened to submerge her entirely.

            _Maybe this will be the thing that sinks me,_ Corrin thought as she nodded to the guards keeping watch outside the jail. They stepped away from the doors and then Silas opened the door, holding it for her. She muttered her thanks as she entered into the warmth. He smiled at her, but she nearly missed it as the thaw set into her fingers.

            The entryway of the jail was empty besides Gunter and Ryoma. Ryoma leaned against the wall with his head hung low. Gunter stood rigidly beside him. They both stared at her.   

            “It’s about time you found her,” Gunter said. Corrin watched Silas’ eyes slant, but he inclined his head, saying, “Apologies, sir.”

            “Has she given any reason?” Corrin asked. Gunter shook his head.

            “She’s said nothing beyond demanding to speak with you.”

            Corrin scowled and then curved her neck to peer down the hallway lined with iron bars. She stiffened her fingers while her blood grew thick with dread and unease as the soundlessness persisted. She turned to her brother.

              _Why is he here?_

Ryoma caught her questioning eye. He said, “She was one of mine. As were the others she attacked.”

            Processing his answer, Corrin watched Leo thrum his fingers against his crossed arms. The sound of it was dull and muted. 

“Why does she want to speak with me?” she asked, crossing her own arms. 

            “She seems to be under the influence of something,” Gunter announced.

            “Drugs?” Corrin asked at the same time Leo’s face flashed with a spark of something wild. She expected him to air his concerns, but he said nothing. He only turned to stare down the foreboding hallway with a grimace.

            “All my years on patrol through the Midnight Quarter, I never saw anybody act the way she did when we brought her in,” Silas said with a shake of his head.

            _You worked in the Midnight Quarter?_ Corrin nearly asked, intrigued that he had never thought to mention his years patrolling the most dangerous and deadliest section of Windmire, but thought better of it. She looked at him and she thought, _What else don’t I know about you?_

Silas mistook her intrigue for concern. He smiled at her, seeming to assure with his sparkling eyes, _Don’t worry. It wasn’t as bad as you think._

            Behind her, the door inched open, ushering in a swell of frigid air. Then, Sakura peeked through the opening. Sweat-slicked wisps of hair stuck to her forehead. She smelled of antiseptic and iron.

            “Haruno’s dead,” Sakura announced to them all. Then, she lowered her head and murmured, “I’m sorry, brother.”   

            Ryoma’s expression darkened, and then he cursed, peeling himself from the wall and then moving for the door. As he walked past her, he said, “Forgive me, I need to tell the family.”

            Then he was gone. Sakura turned to follow with a squeak of, “I should return to the infirmary,” but Leo commanded, “No. Stay.”

            Sakura startled mid-step, her shoulders jerking up by her ears, and then she fell still. Her face was placid, but a faint blush rose from her throat, creeping into her cheeks. She bowed to Leo, acknowledging his command, but it was obvious to Corrin that his tone had made her highly uncomfortable.

            “Well, let’s go see what this is all about,” Corrin announced, injecting false cheer and pep into her voice.

            “I’ll stay behind to keep the rabble away,” Gunter said with a gruff nod to the closed doors. The others gave no similar objections, breaking apart to allow her to lead the way. She took charge without thought. The burden of leadership had long worn its groove into the slope of her shoulders. She was beginning to grow accustomed to its weight.

            She passed the first cell without incident, but then, there came a ripping, metallic jangle from the end of the corridor. It echoed as she stilled, but it hesitated to restate itself. Silas swore. She turned to find him steadying himself against the wall, a hand splayed across his chest.

            “Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin. She returned his smile, but failed to say anything as another crash sounded. She jerked towards the sound even as it stung at her ears. Each step she took nearer increased its tempo to a steady, pulsating rattle that haunted the corridor. The other inmates joined in, shouting and assailing the bars of their cells with their hands and feet until the noise swelled into a continuous, clanging clamor. Corrin knew there were only six inmates, including the scout, but the eruption of sound and fury belonged to an army ten-thousand strong.

            “Quiet!” Gunter barked from the entryway. The cacophony faded. The inmates retreated to their cots. Only the initial ominous crashing persisted.

            Corrin held her head high as she passed the occupied cells. None of the inmates said a word to her, but their stares were foul and wrathful. They all deserved to be there, three rapists and two would-be murderers, but they had each resented their sentence. Their crimes were aberrations in the general behavior within the fortress and, though heinous, were isolated incidents.

            The scout had been locked up in the cell farthest from the entrance where the light stretched and thinned. Corrin stopped at its center, peering through the bars at the person imprisoned within. 

            A woman sat against the back wall. Heavy shackles encircled her wrists, binding her in place to the floor. With a heave of her arms, she brought the chains against the ground. Explosive sound clanged out through the bars. Then, she stopped, dropping the chains in one final heave. She looked up, craning her head and squinting in the shadows.

            _I don’t recognize her,_ Corrin thought, taking in the fine Hoshidian features and the strip of long, black hair that hung over her shoulder and down her chest. She couldn’t make out much else in the poor light.

            “I knew you’d come,” the scout said. Her voice was amicable, friendly even. “He told me you would.”

            “He?”

            “The voice.”

            _Great, so we’re just starting off crazy,_ Corrin thought as she crossed her arms. She shot a glance back at Silas. He shrugged.

            “What else does the voice tell you?” Leo prompted. The scout twisted in the dark, looking Leo up and down with slow deliberation. Then, she shifted to stare at Corrin again. Corrin looked to Leo, raising her eyebrows at him, but he ignored her, fixated on the scout. He stood inches from the bars, much closer than she dared to.

            “Ask her why she did it,” Silas said, nudging Corrin’s shoulder. She nodded.

            “Why did you attack your own party?”

            “I hated them,” the scout said. “But they hated me first.”

            “Why?”

            “It doesn’t matter why.”

            Corrin scowled.

            “All that matters is that he gave me the power to do it and, in return, he wants me to show you all you can be,” the scout said. The shadows cavorted around her. Corrin thought she saw wisps of smoke, but chalked it up to a trick of the light.

            “I think I’ve heard enough,” Corrin announced, turning to the others to herald their departure. Sakura and Silas nodded in slow agreement and then turned down the corridor, one after the other. Leo didn’t budge. He continued to stare at the scout. Corrin sighed, waving for Sakura and Silas to continue, and then moved to his side, asking, “What’s wrong?”      

            He jumped at her question, tearing his gaze from the coalescing darkness to stare at her through wide eyes. He stepped away from the cell.

            “There’s dark magic at work here,” Leo said. “It’s muted, somehow, but I can sense it…”

            His voice was low. He kept an eye on the scout as he spoke. A cold chill broke across the back of her neck. She shivered.

            “I can’t determine it’s source. It feels like the kind of eldritch magic Iago dabbled in to create the Faceless and I—”

            There was a sound like ripping paper and then Leo shouted, “Corrin!” as a hand latched onto her forearm. Corrin lurched away in shock.

            The grip didn’t lessen. Her head whipped towards her assailant. The scout stood on the other side of the bars, free of her chains. Purple smoke wreathed the scout’s head. It billowed from her mouth and seeped from her eyes. It drifted past Corrin and then dissipated into the corridor. The scent of it was heady in the stale air. Corrin tensed. The dragonstone flared against the hollow of her throat. Silver plating flashed across her body, leaving only her head exposed. 

            “The shrieking longs for you,” the scout said. “Can you hear it?”

            As her grip tightened, Corrin’s skin grew hot and then purple lightning coursed between the junctures of her scales. Her thoughts came faster. Her eyes saw more. Then, the poison of the scout’s touch sank into her bloodstream, blazing out into the surrounding sinew and bone. The world smeared into viscous sound.

            She could hear laughing women and running footsteps and creaking bedsprings and gentle snoring and whispering prayers and crackling candlelight and soft breaths and coursing blood and pulsing heartbeats. She became untethered within it, seeing everything, _everything,_ without seeing. The world was colored in a wash of furious, uproarious sound and all she wanted was for it to be quiet again.

            _Give yourself to Anankos._

            It was her voice, but it wasn’t her thought. It roared above the bursting, colliding sound in her skull. It bid her to shatter her defenses, to embrace the ancient horror encircling her mind, to become more than she had ever imagined being.

            Then, her head snapped back and she opened her eyes to the world she knew. The only sound she heard was her own wet breaths, thundering across her senses. The scout’s open palm hovered just above her wrist. Her armor plating had receded, leaving only the soft leather of her overcoat.

            Smoke still emanated from the scout, but it had been reduced to thin whorls. The scout’s eyelids drooped and the eyes beneath were hard and glossy. Her skin was translucent. The capillaries beneath were webs of inky, black lines.

            “Lilith didn’t have to die,” the scout whispered. “If only you had accepted what you’re meant to be.”

            The scout reached for her again, but Yato was in her hand and then through the scout’s chest. Foul steam burst from the scout’s mouth and eyes with a horrible screeching. Then, the scout was dead weight on Yato’s hilt. Corrin drew the blade free. She tottered back, staring at the mess of flesh that had once been a woman.

            Sakura called her name, but Corrin’s tongue had swelled to stop her voice. She turned to Leo. His arms came around her, but she shook them off. She stumbled into the bars. They dug into her back and knocked against her head and then her eyes found Silas’. He stared at her, open mouthed. There was blood on her hands, black and vile.

            Then, she was running because she had to get away from the stink of death and the horror in his eyes.

            She burst through the doors despite Gunter’s questioning shouts and then she was collapsing beside a copse of trees, exhaling sick and bile and tears until there was nothing left but an unrelenting dizziness. The wind ripped through her hair and froze the sweat to her skin.

            _It’s over. I’m okay,_ she thought, steadying herself against a tree’s trunk. The door to the jail opened. Hazy firelight cut a wide swath through the night. Two figures emerged.

            “Corrin?”

            “I’m here,” she called. Her voice was weak. Her mouth tasted like acid.

            Sakura and Silas came into view. Sakura laid a hand against Corrin’s back, but she shrugged away. Even the minute touch overwhelmed her. Each of her senses were frayed and broken.

            “Are you alright?” Silas asked. She made herself nod despite the wave of nausea that crashed in her stomach. She drew herself up to her full height, staring past him, unable to confront the residual fear she knew she’d find in his eyes, and then commanded, “Summon the war council.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii. I don't really have that much to say for this chapter. Its lots of stage-setting for upcoming developments and its probably the chapter that's caused me the most grief thus far. Even in my final revisions, I was changing things beyond little line edits lol. 
> 
> Question for the future: Do y'all have an opinion on smut? I've never written anything overtly sexual before so I'm a little hesitant to go in for it guns a blazing, but if its something desired (or expected given the genre & rating (though I suppose I'd have to bump it even higher potentially?)) I'd be open to the possibility. I'm just curious as its something that's a bit overwrought in ff, but also an anticipated feature of it. Like I know its my story & all that, but I've been on both sides of liking or hating smut. There's nothing worse than wanting characters to reach a new level of intimacy, but them never getting there OR all they do is have sex when you want to know what's going on with the big bad evil they're supposed to be taking down lol. I'm still rather new to all this (and absolutely inactive within the community because i'm shy) so I'd be appreciative of y'all's stance on the matter. I also just always love hearing y'all's thoughts in general because they're always super interesting and enlightening. So yeah, long ramble, but just some housekeeping for the future of this piece :p


	13. Insight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura deals with a moral dilemma. Corrin officiates a race. Kana's hunt for treasure goes awry.

It wasn’t too much of a stretch to say that the only quality time Sakura got to spend with her siblings was when they came into the infirmary with sprained wrists or broken fingers. Every so often, they’d get together to share a lunch or a dinner, but passing greetings and rushed catchups before or after war councils were all she could really count on. And Corrin might as well have been a figment of her imagination for the little she saw of her.

            _I only see her when things are bad,_ Sakura thought as she rose onto her tiptoes to reach into the very back of the medicine cabinet. She couldn’t see anything, but she rooted her fingers against all the vials and bottle until she traced pitted glass. Worming her fingers around the neck so that she didn’t send the bottle clattering onto its side, Sakura pulled the glass towards her, hoping that she wouldn’t accidentally bring the whole shelf down on her head.

            She read the label and then sighed.

            _Wrong one. Again._

            “Do you need help, Sakura?”            

            “No! You stay put!” she called back, reaching into the dark depths of the cabinet again. Thankfully, she located another pitted bottle with relative ease and, when she’d pulled it free, found it was the right one.

            She turned around to her brother’s pouting face.

            “You’re bossy,” he said. She scowled at him. Ryoma laughed. Then, she grabbed his hand, holding his arm flat in the air, and then sprinkled the contents of the bottle over the bloodied wound on his bicep. He stopped laughing.

            Instead, he grimaced as the skin began to singe and hiss around the cut until all the blood and grime was gone from the gash.

            “You really need to be more careful,” Sakura said as she tightened the cap back onto the bottle.

            “I am careful. Corrin just hits like frenzied pegasus.”

            _Then maybe you should stop sparring with her,_ Sakura thought as she watched him twist his arm around to get a better look at the wound. Then, she took her time in returning the bottle and even longer to retrieve her staff from the confines of her satchel. Ryoma said nothing as she milled about, though she wasn’t surprised. Lapses of silence were expected whenever it was just her and Ryoma, but she wished that they weren’t.

            There was a dark knowledge that kept her up into the dawn of the morning and she knew Ryoma could alleviate her strife in a single sentence with that wise, gentle way of his. But Corrin had sworn her to secrecy and, more than that, she was terrified of implicating him within the treacherous web that Corrin had spun. There was no telling Ryoma without condemning Corrin in his eyes or, worse, the eyes of the entire army.

            _But he’s in danger,_ Sakura thought.

            Each day, Corrin tempted fate, sending out parties to investigate the land and establish footholds in the desolate country. Ryoma led many of them and, each night, Sakura dreamt of her brother, wreathed in purple smoke and staring with eyes that were empty and endless, following her with shuffling feet and bloodied hands.

            She knew next to nothing about possession as there was no greater sin than overwhelming the will of another, but she knew that the scout had been possessed, not driven mad.

            _Mad women can’t rip free of their chains like paper,_ Sakura thought, _and they don’t burst apart into streamers of flesh when stabbed._

            But Corrin had lied and no one but Sakura, Leo, and Silas knew the true danger facing them.

            Sakura looked at her brother and watched his amber eyes, the very same shade as hers, flick back and forth as he read the inventory list on the wall across from him. She watched him and dread coiled in her stomach.

            Constantly, she was terrified of losing her family, but she was scared of losing Ryoma most of all. As her brother moved his attention from the inventory to the shadows moving behind the curtains beside him, she thought of the precious minutes before the war council had gathered a week prior, when the lie had been formulated and she had done nothing to stop it.

            _“Might I suggest,” Leo began, drawing Corrin to a halt and the rest of them along with her. Sakura stood beside Silas, feeling more and more like she was out of place and unnecessary._

_“You give me time to examine the body before you reveal the gravity of the situation. Otherwise, you risk undue hysteria without the answers to quell it."_

_Sakura’s heart fell into her belly as she watched her sister mull it over, turning the idea between her teeth by chewing on her lip._

_“How long would you need?” Corrin asked._

_Banners of warning waved in Sakura’s mind. A lie would help no one._

_“Only a few weeks, a month at most. I’ll also need access to the infirmary’s supply to—"_

_“You can’t be serious.”_

_Sakura sucked in a gulp of air through her straining mouth as Silas strong-armed his way into the discussion. Leo stiffened and, in the waning starlight, his shadow stretched long behind him._

_“Excuse me?”_

_Silas turned to Corrin, ignoring Leo’s affronted ego, and argued, “They deserve to know everything you know, even if it isn’t much. You can’t keep them in the dark on something like this.”_

_Corrin gave no immediate response and Leo scoffed. He was so tall he blocked out the moon. Sakura feared he would keep growing until he stood like a colossus above the world._

_“The dark is the best place for those who default to fear before thought.”_

_Sakura watched color saturate Silas’ face as his hands clenched. He shouted, “Fear is the natural reaction to something as monstrous as what just happened! Not sick fascination!”_

_Sakura had spent little time in Leo’s presence, finding him too much like the oily politicians that had besieged Mikoto throughout her entire interim rule, but she had never seen him in the sinister light that Takumi did. Now, as he sneered in cruel disdain, she understood her brother’s apprehension completely. She watched him turn to Corrin with lazy bravado and she wished for her brother to manifest in a flurry of unkempt hair and anger to stop him from capturing them all within the palm of his hand._

_“Best remind your toy of his place before I do.”_

_“Enough!”_

And Sakura had thought Corrin’s _“enough”_ had meant that she would never comply with Leo’s request.

            _But she did._

Sakura looked at her brother and she wanted to ask him, _You wouldn’t hide the truth, would you?_

But she knew it wasn’t an easy answer. And she knew Corrin was suffering for it. Each day, the shadows beneath her eyes grew until they haunted the corners of her smiles.

            A chorus of moans rose up from the other side of the infirmary followed by a long, unrestrained shriek and then silence. Sakura resigned her moral quandary for another day. The strength had left her to question her brother about it.  

            “What was that all about?” Ryoma asked, quietly so that the injured party could not hear.

            Sakura pulled her staff free, tracing the etched blessings in the wood, before she answered.

            “Bone resetting.”

            Ryoma’s face soured. He rubbed at his wrist and Sakura could only assume that he thought of the summer he’d tried his hand at kinshi riding. She had only been six, but, even now, she could still remember how he’d howled when the priestesses had held him down and twisted his mangled wrist into something salvageable. The bone had healed strong and straight, but she knew he still gave kinshis a wide berth.  

            “Poor dastard,” Ryoma muttered, shaking his head.

            “If you’re not careful, that could be you,” Sakura said quietly.

            Ryoma huffed, crossing his arms.

            “You sound like Mikoto.”

            _That’s not a bad thing,_ Sakura thought, hiding her smile behind the headpiece of her staff. Then, it took only a murmured chant and a few seconds to heal his wound. He hissed as the blessing knit his skin together and, when it was over, he poked at the bright, pink strip of flesh like he always did.

_What a baby._

            Ryoma stood to leave before she’d even lowered her staff.

            “Thank you,” he said as he wrapped her in a brief, one armed hug. She hugged him back as fiercely as she could manage, asking him with the squeeze of her arms to stay a bit longer, but he peeled away.

            “I’ll see you at dinner,” he announced in parting.

            _All that means is you’ll wave at me from the other side of the mess hall,_ Sakura thought as she waved a feeble goodbye to his retreating form.

            When the tent flaps fluttered closed behind him, she drew the curtains around the cot he’d previously occupied and tried not to cry.

 

* * *

 

Corrin heard the soft chattering of passing conversation just as her fist emerged from the belly of a straw dummy. As she withdrew her arm, brushing it clean of bits of straw, she listened to the voices with mild curiosity, trying to place their cadence and tambour.

            She hadn’t meant to disfigure the dummy, but frustration had blurred her rationality into a torrent of unfeeling physicality. Nothing was going the way it was meant to.

            _Everything sucks,_ Corrin thought as stared at the mess she’d made. The dummy would need to be restuffed and resewn, but both were beyond her ability. Once, at Gunter’s insistence, she’d tried sewing, but she stuck herself with the needle too many times for it to have become a beloved hobby. Jakob had a natural gift for sewing so all her tattered clothes were pawned off on him to fix, despite his protests that she would be better suited training with a needle than a sword.

            Her machinations to con Jakob into fixing the dummy evaporated upon the sound of the gate into the arena being jangled. She whirled towards the entrance to see a small gathering on the other side.

            In the dusk, she had to squint, but there was no mistaking the Crown Prince of Nohr and his youngest sister for anyone else.   

            _How do I even begin to explain this?_ she thought, glancing at the misshapen dummy and knowing anyone that saw it would think she’d come unhinged, just as Elise announced, “Well, we can’t get in so I guess we’ll just have to…”

            Her high voice trailed off as a third party, who Corrin could only assume was Peri based on the corkscrewing pigtails coming off of their skull, leapt at the gate and then vaulted down on the other side. Only some thirty minutes prior, Corrin had done the exact same thing.

            Now, the gate lay open and Corrin swallowed her scowl as they came through. For a brief moment, she considered scaling the wall and escaping before they could solidify her identity but then Elise shrieked, “Corrin!”

            She drew the final syllable long and drooping as she rocketed across the arena in a leaping gait. Her blonde pigtails streamed behind her, bouncing and twirling in the wind. Corrin braced for impact.

            Elise caught her around the waist, slamming her face against the soft of her belly and then wrapping her wiry arms around her with the strength of twenty boa constrictors.

            “Hi Elise,” Corrin said with a wheeze as the girl’s hug pinched her ribs together. Elise snuggled into her side and chirped, “You’re so strong now! You didn’t even flinch!”

            Corrin had no response. Elise continued to strangle her with love. Thankfully, she wasn’t nearly as strong as Camilla so Corrin felt confident that she would escape the encounter alive. When Camilla captured her in a hug, her fate was never so certain.

            The others approached and Corrin saw that Elise had brought both her retainers while Xander had only brought Peri. Despite this new information, Corrin couldn’t fathom why they’d decided to make the trek to the arena against the night and the cold. She offered a feeble wave. Effie returned it. Arthur saluted. Peri ignored her. Xander nodded and then said, “Elise, let her breathe.”          

            Imparting one final squeeze, Elise released her. Corrin sucked in a gulp of air and the night chilled her lungs.

            _It’s getting colder,_ she thought.

            Her overcoat lay in a heap against the wall, but she hesitated in retrieving it and giving them all an unadulterated view of the mangled dummy behind her. She brought her hands hard and fast over her arms and then asked, more of Elise than of Xander, “What’re you doing here?”

            Elise got out a syllable of explanation before Arthur cut in, excitedly announcing, “Lady Elise has challenged Lord Xander to a duel!”

            Corrin hid her surprised laugh behind a rasping cough. Elise whirled on her retainer with a glare and huffed, “Arthur! I told you it wasn’t a duel! Why do you keep saying that?”

            “Apologies,” Arthur muttered, hanging his head low. Beside him, Effie rolled her eyes and snorted. Elise turned back to Corrin and her expression perked back up into a smile as she announced, “It’s a race.”

            Corrin coughed into her fist to stop from laughing again. She glanced at Xander, but he was staring past her. She stiffened as his brow furrowed and his gaze roved up to meet hers. She forced a smile, but thought, _Shit._

“I know what you’re thinking,” Elise said, pointing at Corrin, “that Xander’s so much bigger and has an unfair advantage, but all that muscle just weighs him down and I’m gonna win _easy.”_

Sequestering her unease to the periphery of her thoughts, Corrin crossed her arms and said, “You seem pretty sure of yourself.”

            “And I’m not the only one! Camilla thinks so too! And… wait! What’s Peri doing?” Elise interrupted. She pointed at Peri as the woman stalked off to the track encircling the arena.

            “She better not be helping you cheat!” Elise said to Xander and then she ran off to confront Peri.

            Arthur and Effie chased after her, Arthur shouting, “Villain!” and leaving Corrin alone with Xander.

            The cold coupled with the quiet assailed her nerves so she retrieved her overcoat if only to force him to say something, _anything,_ and give her a chance to defend herself in light of the ravaged dummy and the implications it held. As she slid her arms into the bundled fabric of her coat, cringing at the chill that had taken hold of the fabric, he announced, “She’s stalling.”

            Corrin followed his gaze and found Elise brandishing a large pebble aloft, shouting, “Aha!”

             A shouting match between Arthur and Peri erupted, Arthur accusing Peri of boobytrapping the route and Peri calling Arthur an idiot, as Elise looked on with a satisfied smile. Corrin shook her head.

            “This whole thing is ridiculous,” she said. “How did she even convince you to do this?”

            “If she loses, she has to start showing up to her training.”

            For as long as Corrin had known Elise, the girl had never once participated in any sort of training despite her siblings’ attempts to convince her otherwise. Sometimes, she would agree to run of few laps or do a few crunches, but then could never be found when the time came to own up to her agreement. There was a time when Elise had been persuaded to take up dancing, but quit soon after discovering that her siblings considered it a suitable substitution for her formal training.

            “And you think she’ll actually start showing up?”

            “Not at all, but I have to try.”

            Corrin smiled and thought, _It’s too easy to forget he cares for more than military offenses and politics._

            She watched as Effie tried to break up Arthur and Peri’s squabble, but neither seemed willing to budge in their staunch defense of their respective royals. Elise stood free of the debate, throwing the pebble up and then catching it before it could plummet to the ground.

            “What does she get if she wins?”

            Xander sighed.

            “She styles my hair.”

            The image of him with pigtails identical to Elise’s was too much and she laughed. At his unamused expression, she sobered, commenting, “That’s a steep price.”

            He shrugged.

            “I’m not concerned. She’s completely incompetent when it comes to anything exhaustive.”

            “Worse than Leo?”

            Xander nodded. Corrin whistled low.

            “I didn’t think that was possible,” she said. “Leo gets winded if he stands in the lunch line too long.”

            He laughed and she was surprised at the sound of it, but enjoyed hearing it. When they’d been younger, she’d been in such awe of him that the possibility of casual banter never seemed possible. They had been close, but she had never truly known him.

            Once, her every interaction with him had been borne from an anxiety to impress him that had gripped her whenever he came to visit the Northern Fortress. It was better to simply exist and to be herself than to conform to whatever disillusioned idea she believed would dazzle him. 

            “Leo’s lazy, but capable,” he said. “Elise is simply unwilling.”

            Then, he breathed into his hands as he rubbed them together. His breath misted in the cold air and cast him in a thin haze. He caught her eye and she shifted as naturally as she could manage to stare up at the icy stars instead. She stuck her hands into the warmth of her armpits and loosed her own puff of crystalline breath. The night was harsh against her exposed skin, but her blood sang in gentle content and kept her from freezing.

            Peri had fallen silent, but Arthur and Effie had begun to bicker. Corrin wasn’t sure what exactly had started their argument, but she was certain Elise was responsible. She turned to Xander, intending to ask him the whereabouts of his other two siblings, but he spoke before she got the chance.

            “How are you doing? I know things have been difficult.”

            _Understatement of the century,_ she thought as she brought her hands out to rub at her arms. The cold began to sweep through the layers.

             “I’m doing alright,” she said, forcing her mouth into as nonchalant a smile as she could muster. 

            “The disemboweled dummy says otherwise.”

            Her smile dipped, but she pressed her lips tight together to keep it from slipping completely.

            “Well, I’m alright now.”

            Across the arena, Elise had joined the fray, casting her honeyed voice against the anger she’d stoked, but Xander spoke over his sister’s echo.

            “There are better ways to get your frustration out that don’t involve the murder of innocent dummies.”

            She scowled. The conversation hadn’t gone where she’d expected, but the insinuation was still unappreciated. She rolled her eyes.

            “Please, regale me with your healthy coping mechanisms.”

            He laughed and her annoyance began to ebb.

            “I’ve heard quiet meditation does wonders for frustration.”

            She was unable to even imagine him sitting cross-legged and contemplative the way she’d seen Azura do thousands of times, but a goofiness permeated her thoughts and she smiled despite herself.

            “And where did Camilla read that?”

            Xander shrugged.

            “Some self-help periodical presumably. She’s been trying to force yoga on me for the past few months.”

            Corrin laughed, admitted, “Hinoka forced me into an impromptu yoga session once.”

            He didn’t prompt her to elaborate, but he offered his undivided attention, shifting his gaze completely away from Elise’s escapades. In the brief moment before she shared her yoga experience, Corrin noticed he seemed more at ease than she had seen him in years. There was no pinch between his brows or tightness to his shoulders and she wondered if the change was simply a coincidence or an indicator towards their burgeoning friendship.

            They had been talking more frequently and more easily and she no longer felt that he wanted to rip her head off during war council, but she didn’t know if that meant they were friends.         

            _At the very least, it means we’re not going to kill each other,_ she thought as she announced, “I lost my balance, fell over, and hit my head in the first five minutes.”

            “Sounds about right.”

            She glared at him and he offered a smirk instead of soothing the offense. Something small and silvery quickened in her pulse so she cast her gaze onto the hard ground and, for the first time, relished the frigid, harsh wind on her face.

            “Xander! Are we going to do this or are you too scared you won’t look any good in pigtails?” Elise shouted as she drew near, followed closely by the other three. Effie’s arms were laden with an assortment of pebbles and twigs of various sizes.

            “Try not to be too disappointed when you lose,” Xander said, heading for the track with Peri in tow. Elise scrunched her mouth up into a sneer in his wake and then turned to Corrin with a whiplash grin, saying, “Can you call the race? Peri wanted to do it, but she’ll say Xander won even if he didn’t.”

            “Sure,” Corrin agreed with a shrug. Elise began to move, but then she fell still, turning back towards Corrin with a sharp look.

            “Are things alright with Silas?” Elise asked suddenly.

            “Uh, yeah,” Corrin said, blindsided by the question. Elise clapped her hands together and then chirped, “Okay, good!”

            She began to turn towards the track, clearly intending to line up beside her brother, but Corrin asked, “Wait, why do you ask?”

            The younger girl stilled.

            “Well…”

            Elise looked over her shoulders and then said, “Don’t tell him I told you this, but Xander wanted me to ask you about it. He overheard something that worried him, I think.”

            Corrin frowned. She brought her hands out from beneath her armpits and then crossed her arms, pressing them tight against her chest.

            “What was it?”

            Elise scuffed her toe against the ground. Her words came reluctantly, but she infused each with a dose of enthusiasm in such a way that she sounded overly excited about the revelation.

            “Well, I guess Silas was talking to another solider when Xander went to go check on the perimeter or whatever it is he does and he heard Silas say something about you having changed a lot and that he was kinda worried about it.”

            Corrin felt like she’d been punched in the chest. Elise was quick to add, “But I’m sure it was nothing! He was probably just trying to act tough!”

            Then, Elise ran off to join her brother. Arthur went with her, trailing merrily behind. Effie stayed and, though Corrin could feel her heavy gaze between her shoulders, said nothing.

            Arthur and Peri began to count down simultaneously, but Corrin didn’t watch the siblings begin their race. The dummy, laying dejected and deformed, had caught her attention. She became lost in its featureless face.

            _“You can’t lie to their faces and still expect their trust,”_ Silas had told her after the fateful war council the week before. He had gone an entire day without speaking to her afterwards, but he’d eventually come around and she’d begged for his forgiveness at the same time he begged for hers. She had thought everything that had been broken had been fixed between them, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

            Stress and guilt and frustration, both new and old alike, had sent her out into the unforgiving cold, but she’d beaten them back as she’d rained blow upon blow onto the dummy until it permanently retained her fury. Now, they threatened to devour her again, holding her thoughts and her breaths hostage as the ramifications of every decision she’d ever made since the outbreak of the war hit her at once.

            Fresh guilt burbled in her lungs for the scout she’d named a traitor instead of a victim. Leo still had yet to uncover anything beyond the fact that the scout had been possessed and, the longer he took, the more impossible revealing the truth seemed.

            Peri began to cheer, breaking the still, and Corrin whipped her attention towards the sound. Xander stood in the same spot he had only a few minutes before. Elise flagged behind, huffing and promising murder with her eyes.

            They came to her side soon after, Elise calling Xander a cheater and Xander calling Elise a sore loser, but she no longer had the heart to entertain their antics.

            “I need to get to bed,” she said to them, taking her leave as they offered meager goodbyes. She looked through the concern on their faces.

            As she walked through the gate, she heard Elise exclaim, “Wow! She really messed up this dummy!”

            Her hands felt like ash and she knew sleep would be an elusive dream at best that night.

 

* * *

 

            It was so cold out that the snot froze the second it left Kana’s nose. It clung to the skin and, when he rubbed at it, it broke off in little flakes, taking flecks of skin with it and leaving the area around his nostrils red and raw and very, very painful.

            Kana didn’t want to be out in the cold. In fact, he _hated_ the cold because it did things like freeze his snot and make his face hurt, but he had some very important sneaking around to do that could only be done in the dark, cold night because Siegbert was in bed and was a really heavy sleeper which meant that Kana could sneak out without getting scolded so long as Siegbert didn’t wake up before he returned which had happened once before, but that was because Kana had lost track of time chasing fireflies and that would never happen now because it was cold and all the fireflies were dead.

            Rounding a corner, something small and glittering caught his eye. Kana darted towards it and then snatched it up into his little greedy hands, but it was only a black button and he had a thousand like it piled in a teeny mountain beneath his bed back home. Besides, it wasn’t even a moderately interesting button like the cracked red one he’d found last week or the one that he was pretty positive was made out of bone.

            Still, Kana held it up to his eye and tried to make a case for it, but there was simply nothing interesting about it so he tossed it over his shoulder and enjoyed the _plink_ of it bouncing off the side of the market stall.

            Sighing, Kana stood up and looked at the empty path around him. The stalls were all boarded up for the night and they looked sad and lonely beneath the thin moon. They reminded him of the markets back home but those had taken up an entire city block and there had been everything from elixirs to puppets and, once, his papa had taken him to the markets to buy a gift for his mama’s birthday and his papa had tried to convince him to get his mama something like jewelry but he’d made friends with an old man that whittled ducks out of wood instead and tried to whittle a duck for his mama and it’d turned out more like a big booger than a duck but he’d given it to his mama anyway and she loved it more than all her other gifts and kept it on the nightstand by her bed and then the next year he bought her wind chimes from a Hoshidian woman, but his papa didn’t take him that year because his papa was really busy and he’d had to go shopping with Jakob and it was the worst day of his life because Jakob was a jerk.

            The wind blew really hard and Kana drew his jacket tighter around his little body. The dragonstone Corrin had given him was warm against his chest. He wondered if his mama had one too because he’d never seen her wearing one, at least, not like the one he had which was round and smooth and kind of reminded him of a bubble that had been frozen and then stuck on a chain and he’d only ever heard about his mama being a dragon from the history lessons he had to take about the war his mama and papa had fought and all the crazy cool things his mama had done but didn’t like to talk about because her brothers had died because of the war and he wondered if maybe that was why she didn’t wear a dragonstone.

            He liked his dragonstone a lot though and, even though he didn’t really understand what being a dragon meant and had been really scared and upset when he’d woken up and they told him he had torn apart the woods and hurt Corrin, he was happy to have hair like his mama’s because he’d never liked his brown hair because nobody in his family had brown hair and now he looked just like his mama except young and a boy! The only thing that was bad was that he was pretty sure the whole thing had stressed Siegbert out so much that he cried and that made Kana feel really, really bad. The last thing he wanted was to stress Siegbert out that much, especially since it wasn’t even something he’d meant to do! He had just gotten mad and now he was a dragon!

            It was weird and sometimes, if he thought about it too much, he got a really sick feeling down in his stomach because he knew his mama was going to be really worried and he didn’t think his papa would be too happy either with him being able to wreak more havoc and he really hated upsetting everyone and just wanted to make everyone happy instead.

            Now, Kana yawned, stretching his arms up over his head and towards the sky. It was getting pretty late. He hadn’t found anything remotely interesting to add to his stash. Usually, his best finds were strewn about the market stalls, but, tonight, there was nothing but straw, forgotten buttons, and a bit of ragged cloth.

            “This sucks,” Kana muttered, kicking at the path. His kick sent dirt swirling up into the air and he liked the sight of it so much that he kicked twice more. Then, he shoved his hands down into his pockets to keep them from freezing and headed down the path, back towards the fortress and his warm bed within it.

            As he walked, he kept an eye out for anything interesting that he may have missed the first time through, but there was nothing. He wondered if he needed to find a new place to scavenge and where that new place might be because everywhere else was crawling with adults and once he’d tried looking for treasures by the tavern but Percy’s dad had found him and told him that he should be in bed and then Percy’s dad had tripped and an entire tree had landed on top of him and Kana was so freaked out that he just stood around staring at the man and wondering if Percy could still be born in his time if his dad died but then Ignatius’ dad had come out and then went to get help so Kana ran away and felt so bad about it that he cried a bunch and Siegbert slept through his crying but Shiro woke up and he told Kana bad jokes until he calmed down and then promised not to tell Siegbert.   

            Kana was halfway back to his room when he heard crying. At first, he wasn’t sure that he’d heard it at all because it was so quiet and really more sniffles than crying, but he stopped to listen and then he was sure that someone was crying. He followed the sound because it was so cold and he was worried that they might be hurt and he was a little scared because it was so late and his mama had warned him that some people would try to take advantage of his kindness to hurt him, but bad people didn’t cry. At least, he didn’t think they did.

            It was only a short walk to find the crying person. They sat around the corner of the fortress, halfway between shadow and starlight. They were so far away from the main path that Kana figured they must have chosen their crying spot because they didn’t want to be found. But he’d heard them and he’d found them and, as he got closer, he recognized them.

            “Soleil?” Kana whispered. The sniffling stopped. Soleil wiped at her face with the back of her arm. She glared at him, but, even in the dark, her face was puffy and sad and he wasn’t scared by her at all.

            “Why’re you crying Soleil? Are you okay?”

            “I’m fine,” she said but she didn’t sound fine at all. She sounded like his mama did when she fought with his papa and didn’t know he was waiting outside the door and he always felt so bad because he couldn’t do anything to make her feel better because he didn’t know what they were fighting about anyway because he couldn’t hear what they said, he could only hear them yelling.

            Kana made room for himself in the dirt beside Soleil. She didn’t say anything until he was seated and comfortable. Up close, Kana could see her face was shiny from tears and from raw skin.

            He’d never seen Soleil cry before. Usually, it was Shigure that cried because he cried when he got really mad and Soleil was really good at making Shigure mad, but Soleil had never cried before. He always thought of her as the toughest person he knew so he’d never even thought that she could cry before.

            “You shouldn’t be out so late,” she said.

            “I know.”

            Soleil laughed a little, but it didn’t sound like her normal laugh because it was wet from her crying. She wiped at her face again. Kana could tell she wasn’t happy that she’d been caught crying. She shifted so that her knees were up against her chest and then she crossed her arms over her knees and put her head on top of them.

            “Did somebody say something mean?’ Kana asked. “Because one time Nina told me I was only born because I was an accident and I cried a bunch because I didn’t want to be an accident and then I thought that my mama and papa didn’t want me and then Nina made fun of me for crying but it only made me cry more.”

            Soleil huffed. Her breath was an icy cloud. Kana frowned. He didn’t think his story helped much because Soleil didn’t say anything. He thought maybe he should leave because maybe she just wanted to be alone and he was making it worse, but then she asked, “Do you know anything about my mother?”

            Kana looked at her, but she had her face buried in her arms and so he could only really see the side of her face. He looked at that sad, little sliver of her face and knew that whatever had made her cry was much worse than somebody saying one mean thing to her.

            “Siegbert said the other day that your mama left when you and Shigure were babies but that’s all I know.”

            Soleil laughed, but Kana liked it even less than her wet laugh from before. This laugh was cold and bitter.

            “Yeah, she abandoned us. Just up and disappeared. My dad, he wasted years looking. I think he’s still hopeful she’ll just show up one day but…”

            Kana fished the dragonstone out from the folds of his coat. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. It helped him focus when his thoughts were threatening to go off on a tangent of epic proportions. Except Soleil didn’t say anything else and Kana felt kind of silly playing with his dragonstone so he let it fall back against his chest and tried to think of something to say.

            “I like your papa,” Kana said. “He’s really nice.”

            Soleil sighed.

            “Yeah, he is.”

            Kana scowled as she fell back into silence and then he was going to say something about the time her papa had taught him how to waltz and how much he had enjoyed that but then she suddenly shouted, “And that’s why it makes it all the more _fucked_ up that Shigure doesn’t even care how much that harpy—”

            Kana shivered when she said harpy because he’d read a book with harpies in it once and the illustrations of the harpies had given him nightmares for weeks. And he knew Soleil was talking about her mama and not an actual harpy, but that only made it a little worse because his mind started making his memory of her pretty mama all shriveled and mean looking.

            “She hurt our dad. He just wants to play family and pretend like everything’s fine and she’s _not_ going to leave us in every single fucking timeline because she’s…”

            Soleil lost her steam. She sighed in one big gush and then she muttered, “heartless.”

            But Kana was confused. They weren’t supposed to be talking to their parents. Siegbert had said so and they had all gone out of their way to avoid their parents. The only reason Kana was allowed to talk to Corrin was because she came up to talk to him. He got in trouble when Siegbert found out he went out of his way to talk to her. Though, that wasn’t a problem anymore because Corrin always left before he could find her and talk to her and he was more than a little worried that she didn’t like him anymore because he’d accidentally hurt her when he’d been a dragon.

            “I thought I knew Shigure better than anyone, but I _never_ thought he’d do something like this.”

            Kana frowned. He was almost scared to ask what she was talking about, but he did.

            “What did Shigure do?”

            For the first time, Soleil raised her head and then she looked at Kana straight on. Her eyes were small and red. Her cheeks were shiny. Her hair was messy and knotted.

            “He’s been talking to her. Our mother. Taking little singing lessons in his spare time.”

            “Oh,” Kana said and he felt very small and unable to help her. He wondered if he should rat to Siegbert that Shigure was talking to his mama, but he didn’t think involving Siegbert would make anything better.

            But he knew things could only get worse from here. He knew Soleil and Shigure would be fighting more, if they talked at all. He knew their group would split in two and he knew that lunches and dinners wouldn’t be the same. He knew Siegbert would want to stay with Soleil, but he would go with Shigure because Soleil was tough and Shigure was sensitive. He knew Shiro would go with Soleil because he got along with Soleil better than he did with anyone else, except maybe him. And he knew that he’d be stuck somewhere in the middle. Like he always was because he didn’t really fit in anywhere.

            But that didn’t matter right now because Soleil was sad and Kana was the only one there and he thought maybe she would let him help her feel better.

            “Do you know what I do when I’m sad?” Kana asked, quietly because he was scared if his voice was too loud then she might slip back into her arms and hide her face again.

            “What do you do, Kana?” she asked and he could tell she was just entertaining him, but he took it as a good sign because at least she was talking to him.

            “I like to think about all my favorite things and then I like to think of where I got them from and I forget why I’m sad after awhile because I just remember good things instead of bad things.”

            Soleil didn’t say anything. She stared at the brick wall in front of them, but she kept her head up.

            “So, like, I have this stuffed rabbit and it’s blue and it’s missing an ear because I accidentally tore it off but Felicia fixed it for me and it’s really soft and I named her Gwen because she has a little Gwen face and I used to sleep with her every night, but I didn’t bring her with me here because I didn’t really bring anything with me here and you know where I got her from?”

            Soleil still didn’t look at him, but he could see she was smiling just a little bit but she didn’t answer him so he said, “You gave her to me. Do you remember? We were out in the courtyard and I was really sad because Shi—”    

            Kana swerved from his current line of thought because he didn’t think mentioning Shigure would make her feel better so he amended, “Because there was a family of bunnies and everybody was petting them but they kept running away when I tried to pet them and I cried a bunch and then later that night you gave me Gwen because you said you wanted me to have a bunny that wouldn’t run away.”

            “I remember that,” Soleil said.

            “You’re a really good person and I’m really sorry that Shigure is being such a jerk.”  

            He didn’t really know if he thought that Shigure was being a jerk because if he didn’t know his mama then he would definitely want to meet her, but he also knew that he was lucky because his mama had loved him his whole life, but he figured that him calling Shigure a jerk would maybe make Soleil feel better.

            “Thanks Kana,” Soleil said. “And I’m really sorry too, but not as sorry as Shigure’s gonna be.”

            Kana blinked because Soleil didn’t look sad anymore. She looked tough again, but not in a good way. She looked a little bit like the bullies that used to call him a spoiled crybaby.

            He wanted to ask what she meant, but he really didn’t want to know because he didn’t think it was good and it would probably only make him more worried and he hoped that she would work through her emotions without being mean to Shigure or doing something that would stress out Siegbert, but Kana looked at the glint in her eye and knew that something much worse was going to happen to their group than sitting on opposite sides of the mess hall and he could only hope that it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say for this chapter other than its probably one of my favorites as a whole, cohesive chapter but its got all my favorite things to write in it, but I digress.  
> Thank you to everyone who responded to my question in the last author's note! I really appreciated your input and I feel like I've got a much better grasp on what I want to do.  
> I hope y'all continue to enjoy <3


	14. Repose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corrin brushes up on her cartography. Sakura gets drafted into the party planning committee.

            Corrin sat at her desk with sleep coloring her eyes. She read from a translation done in Leo’s spidery handwriting, but the words drifted around the page on waves of tandem boredom and exhaustion. The harder she focused, the deeper the sentences sank into the tan tint of the paper. Her eyelids bobbed while the hand that held her head aloft slipped along the curvature of her skull. She dreamt a memory of swollen raspberries bleeding violet beneath a harsh, spring sun and a birthday over a decade passed. Then, her head fell from the steadying force of her hand and ricocheted against the hardwood of her desk.

            “Ow,” she moaned among the papers and the pens displaced from her untimely descent.

            She summoned the strength to regain her posture, rubbed once at her smarting face, and then stood free of her desk. She moved to the mirror, squinting at the jut of her forehead for any signs of abuse, but the same face she’d always known stared back, unmarred and unblemished.  Her hair hung in disorder so she pulled it back with the black ribbon she kept knotted around her wrist until it jutted from the cusp of her head in a single stream of curls. She forced herself to smile, but the expression was muddled by sleep and unease. Her chest was tight. She couldn’t remember anything of her dream.

            There was a solitary knock at the door as she returned to her desk.

            “Lady Corrin?” Felicia’s timid voice called from beyond the closed door. “You have a visitor.”

            “Let them in,” she said, dogearing the passage she’d failed to finish. Leo’s attached note, underlining the importance of her reading the sections he’d listed, glared up at her from the cover as she closed the text. She drew her hands against her scalp, pulling her brow from its natural curve. As the door squeaked open, she turned, setting her face and crossing her arms over her chest.  

            “I apologize for keeping you waiting,” Xander said.

            He held a substantial tome aloft in his left hand. Its binding was hard leather, cracked and molded with age. A thin hand appeared to pull the door shut behind him. The candlelight flickered from the draft of the closing door.

            “Don’t worry about it,” Corrin said with a shrug. “It gave me time to get some work done.”

            A stack of freshly signed requisitions attested to her productivity. In the morning, Jakob would deliver them to their respective recipients to be filled. Once, she had taken the time to personally deliver each, but, now, she barely had the time to review and sign off on them. It was getting harder not to define her days by the battles waged against the thralls beyond the gates or the beatings she took at the hands of Xander and her brother.

            _I barely have time to breathe._

Across from her, Xander opened the book and began to thumb thorough the pages. She leaned against the edge of her desk, watching the thin paper flip and bend as he searched. Soon, she sent her gaze drifting to the window, but there was nothing to see beyond barren limbs and endless night.

            When, finally, he found what he searched for, he came to her side and then laid the open text atop the mess of papers on her desk. She turned to stare at the world inked across two pages by a steady, experienced hand. Cities and landmarks were labeled in Vallite, but the drawing itself needed no translation.

            _Valla,_ she thought, tracing mountain ranges and tributaries with greedy eyes.

            “Where did you find this?” she demanded.

            “Peri found it hidden within one of the eroded embrasures on the battlements.”

            Corrin tore her gaze from the map. There wasn’t a ghost of a joke on his face, but she still asked, “What?”

            “She showed me where she found it. It had been covered with rubble so it wouldn’t be seen.”

            Her suspicions went immediately to the mad scout, but it seemed a stretch. It was possible that it stowed away before they’d ever arrived, but the leather binding was too well preserved for it to have been out in the elements for so long.

            “That’s not good,” Corrin said and then said nothing else, knowing that anything further would be a betrayal of everything she’d been forced to keep secret even though the weight of them was liable to break her back. Her spine tingled with a passing chill as his veiled eyes roved her face.

            “Have you kept in contact with the boy from the village?” he asked.

            Her tension dissolved across her back. She’d had the same thought, once, but Anthony was only a boy and had done nothing to rouse her suspicions further.

            “Between training and meetings, I’ve barely had the time to talk to anyone,” she said.

            Xander nodded and announced, “I believe he may be the culprit, but I have nothing to hold against him beyond his homeland. I’d like to question him, given your discretion.”

            Corrin saw his words for what they were, knowing that he would do what he saw fit with or without her blessing, but she took them as an olive branch, a formal cessation to the antagonism that had plagued them for far too long.

            “That’s fine. Let me know what if you learn anything.”

            Then, she returned her attention to the map, scanning the towns and matching them with the rough approximations the scouts had given her of the ruins around them that she’d tacked to the wall before her. At a quick glance, they all seemed to match, but that left much of the country unaccounted for.

            _We’ve barely scratched the surface._

Gloom darkened her gaze so she bit her lip and continued to scan the map. Xander was silent beside her, but she didn’t glance at him.

            Eventually, her malaise lifted as she caught sight of a city hiding in the far-left corner. It was larger than the others, lying severed at the edge of the page in its massive scope, but its size wasn’t what held her attention. It was lovingly detailed, seemingly every window and brick accounted for, and it was these details that were familiar to Corrin. She moved from her desk just as Xander said, “Felicia said you haven’t eaten.”

            Corrin stopped midstride, turning to stare in unabashed confusion. There was a wisp of smirk on his lips.

            “She asked me to chastise you for it.”

            She rolled her eyes and then returned to her previous intentions before saying, “She must have mistaken you for Gunter.”

            Her bookcase stretched before her. She began to rummage through the books and papers housed on the shelf directly in front of her.

            “She’s concerned,” Xander said.

            “She doesn’t need to be,” Corrin shot back. “I’ve just been busy.”

            Her search proved fruitless so she stepped back, taking the bookshelf in in its entirety.

            “You could’ve sent for dinner.”

            _Why does it even matter?_ she wanted to huff, but dealing with her overbearing retainers had taught her that picking a fight wouldn’t solve anything.

            “Mess hall was closed by the time I got back.”

            “Closed for dinner maybe, but, by your own orders, you still would have been fed.”

            He spoke of her orders to keep the mess hall forever manned, in case of hungry stragglers or overslept diners. It had proven quite the sticking point when she’d first announced it because it took able bodies from other, more important duties. He and Ryoma had been its most vocal opponents.

            _Because of course they were,_ she remembered.

            “I didn’t want to bother them,” she said just as she caught sight of the folder she sought. It jutted from the second highest shelf, teasing her with its impossible height.

            Then, the door scooched open and Corrin spun to discover Felicia’s strawberry head poking through.

            “Not that I’ve been eavesdropping,” Felicia announced, “but she had them make dinner for Kana, even though he said he wasn’t hungry.”

            It was no secret that Corrin had taken Kana under her wing. With all the insanity that continued to unfold around them, the freak dragon attack had long since faded from memory and her overwhelming panic at the thought of him had been subdued by a fierce responsibility over him.

            _And Felicia uses him against me any chance she gets,_ Corrin thought as she protested, “That’s different!”

            “Nope, you wanted him to eat because you care about him and I want _you_ to eat for the same reason,” Felicia said, raising the final syllable into a singsonging goodbye as she closed the door.

            “Are your retainers as annoying as mine?” Corrin questioned. Dripping irritation from every word as she rolled up onto her toes and stretched for the folder.

            “Yes,” Xander answered. His footsteps heralded his approach and then he was reaching up and grabbing it with complete ease. He handed it to her and she snatched it away with a huff. 

            “I could’ve gotten it," she said.

            “How?”

            An inkling of how ridiculous she must have looked burst across her thoughts. She blushed, but embraced her embarrassment with a humble assertion of, “I have a step stool.”

            His laugh bid her embarrassment to deepen. She glared as she rummaged through the papers and her annoyance kept her from dwelling on the horrors scrawled upon each.

            “Why did you keep those?” Xander asked, but she ignored him as her fingers finally flipped across the sketch she searched for.

            It was a recent sketch, penned by the mad scout before her untimely juncture with the business end of Yato, and its mundaneness was what had set it apart from all the others. Drawn in scribbled lines, a staircase surrounded by clouds and stars vaulted up to a grand door. It seemed more a hazy daydream than a waking nightmare.    

            Corrin took the sketch from the folder, laying the folder back on the bookcase, and then returned to her desk. She smoothed the sketch out atop the map, aligning it with the intricate city that fell off the map. The great similarity seemed a great coincidence. 

            “Look at this,” Corrin commanded, taking a step away from her desk and pointing.

            He came to her side, trading his gaze between the map and the scouted ruins tacked to the wall. As the moments dripped, she became aware of how close he stood and flinched in uncomfortable realization. She felt a blush mounting as she watched him cross his arms and shifted his weight so that he leaned away.

            _Why did I do that?_

She bit her lip, but no answer revealed itself so she continued to endure the awkward silence until Xander asked, “Do you think that’s where Anankos is hiding?”

            Corrin shrugged.

            “I’d say it’s our best bet.”

            Xander reached out, moving the sketch from the surface of the map so that the Vallite title was visible beneath the inked city.

            “It’d be an even better bet if we could read it.”

            “Did you ask Azura to translate?”

            He hesitated in responding. Any mention of Azura, which she’d begun to make often, was met with hesitation. He was always unwilling to broach the subject of his estranged stepsister.

            _Or unable._

 “I thought that was best left to you,” he said.

            She nodded. Then, slowly, easing into the subject with gentle cadence, she said, “You know, it hasn’t been easy for her, seeing Arete back from the dead and all.”

            They had battled the undead only two days prior in a sea of floating islands and falling bridges. Arete had led them, barking orders out to the infernal ranks, and then had slipped away into the mist when the tide of battle had turned against her forces. She hadn’t been seen since and Azura had yet to mention the encounter, but Corrin knew it weighed heavily on her and on them all.

            _If one parent can return as an undead thrall, they all can._

Corrin shook the thought from her head as muted conversation bled through the closed door. Xander said nothing so she continued, “I think she’d appreciate hearing from you. She is your sister after all.”

            Xander sighed.

            “I wish it were that simple, but our relationship has never been th—"

            He trailed off as the door swung open and Felicia announced, “Lady Azura is here to see you. I told her you were busy, but she’s insistent.”

            Corrin glanced at Xander, but the honest emotion had waned from his face.

             Before she could say anything, he moved for the door, announcing, “I’ll take my leave.”

            Then, he paused in his stride, turned to her, and added, “If you get the chance, I’d like to continue this conversation later.”

            “Sure,” she said with a nod. Then, he left, offering a curt nod to Azura as she came in. Azura stared at his retreating figure and then, as Felicia shut the door, turned with her eyebrows bunched and her lips pursed.

            “What was _that_ all about?” she asked. There was an edge to her voice, but Corrin could only place it somewhere between confusion and suspicion.     

            “He found a map of Valla,” she said lamely. Then, as Azura’s stare verged on another question, Corrin asked, “Any chance you can read it?”

            Azura shrugged. Her playful expression fell. She walked to the desk, saying, “I can try.”

            Corrin removed the sketch so that Azura had a completely unimpeded view. Azura stared at it and Corrin watched her golden eyes flick to each labelled illustration. It wasn’t long before Azura sighed.

            “I don’t recognize any… Wait!”

            She pointed to a small blurb of text within the bolded title at the bottom of the map.

            “Touma. That was my mother’s surname, the name given to the royal line.”

            Corrin stared at the small word, but couldn’t decipher how the sounds were pulled from the shapes. She wrote the pronunciation out beneath it in hasty script and thought, _Vallite looks like Hoshidian kanji went through a tornado._

            “And I can’t read anything else,” Azura admitted with an airy laugh.

            “No worries,” Corrin said as she laid the sketch parallel with the map once more. Then, she turned to lean against the desk so that the wood bit into the flesh of her thigh and asked, “What is it that you stopped by for?”

            Hesitancy surfaced in a quiver of Azura’s jaw. She tucked a winding strand of her hair behind her ear. She mumbled something, but it was too low for even Corrin’s expert hearing.

            “What?” Corrin prompted.

            Azura moved her mouth like she was chewing the words to get a grip on them. Then, she mumbled, “Laslow sent me a letter.”

            Corrin crossed her arms and shifted her weight. Azura stared at her expectantly, but the pieces didn’t fall into place.

            “Why would he do that?”

            A blush dusted across the smooth olive of Azura’s face. Something twinged in Corrin’s chest, but she ignored it to gasp in mock scandal.

             “Azura!”

            The other girl threw her hands up over her face as her face continued to pinken and rambled, “I was going to tell you, I promise, but you’ve been so busy and I didn’t want to bother you but now he’s gone and sent me this, this… letter and I don’t know what to do with it!”

            Azura’s disarray made Corrin smile despite the realization that it had been over a month since she’d last spoken to Azura about anything beyond the threat of Anankos. She certainly hadn’t had any inkling of a relationship brewing between her and Laslow. In fact, Corrin hadn’t any inkling that Laslow had the capacity for anything but chasing skirts.

            “Well, what’s the letter say?”

            Azura sighed. Her hands fell away from her face.

            “I don’t know.”

            “You haven’t opened it?”

            “No! I got it and I put it on my bed and I freaked out and I came here!”

            Corrin smirked. She said, “You’ve got it bad.”

            Azura’s pacing stopped. Her distraught expression morphed into a glare.

            “Oh, like you weren’t this anxious when you didn’t know whether or not Silas had an interest in you.”

            _Only in the moment before he’d confessed,_ she thought, but she didn’t know what that meant so she said, “I mean, I guess I was.”

            Azura eyed her, unimpressed. Corrin dug her fingers into the underside of her arm, pretending that she had an itch.  

            She knew her answer was lame, lacking the excitement and happiness that encapsulated the memory, but her relationship with Silas had _felt_ lame recently. Each time they were together, which was becoming a rarer and rarer occasion, she could only hear Elise’s bright voice saying, _Silas said you’ve changed a lot and he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing._

He didn’t look at her the same way anymore.

“I just don’t want to be disappointed,” Azura said.

            Corrin smiled in sympathy. She asked, “Well, what makes you think he cares for you?”

            “I don’t know. Most of the times, I think I’m crazy and that I don’t hold any special meaning in his heart, but, sometimes, his touches linger and his words are so veiled and shy and…”

            Azura dropped her gaze to the floor. Corrin watched the candlelight dance in her eyes as she knit her long, honey fingers together. Her confident voice became little more than a whisper, the information given an intimate secret.  

            “Sometimes, I catch him looking at me and I just get this little kick in my chest like… like I don’t know, like we’re connected or something.”

            Azura’s confession stuck in the meat of her side, thinning the blood and wringing her muscles tight and tense. Her eyes were dry and wide and she wanted to bless them with the dark of her eyelids but Azura was blushing and Corrin formed words before she formed the honesty to diagnose her bout of immobility so she said, “I think you need to read that letter, Azura.”

            Slowly, Azura lifted her chin. She stared with her mouth set in a soft line. She nodded.

            “You’re right. I… thank you.”

            Then, Azura stepped forward and Corrin found herself wrapped in a tight hug. She disentangled her arms to return the hug. Azura smelled like the renewal of spring rain. Corrin thought, _I should tell her about the scout._

But she didn’t.

            “I’ve missed our daily tea,” Azura said as she drew back. Corrin nodded and crossed her arms over her chest again, adding to the distance between then.

            “I have too,” Corrin said. Then, she sighed, “Everything’s just been so insane lately.”

            And it _had_ been so insane lately. Every day that wasn’t spent sparring and training and planning was spent out in the wilds of Valla, conquering land and fear alike. Every night was spent alone with her thoughts until Orochi came and she had to share them. She didn’t know why Orochi even bothered to come anymore. Her last restful night felt like it was years past.

            “I know,” Azura said, “but you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here for you. We’re all here for you.”       

            Corrin knew Azura meant well, but her words were accusations that swelled in the open air.

            _You can’t earn their trust by betraying it,_ Corrin thought but it sounded more like Silas’ voice than her own.

            “Thank you,” Corrin said. It was the only thing she could unstick from her tongue.

            Azura’s smile wavered and Corrin feared its dissipation.

            _If she asks, I’ll burst._

But Azura didn’t. She just said, “If you have time, I’m always free,” and then she saying goodbye and Corrin was saying, “Let me know what Laslow said,” and then the door was opening and then it was closing again and then Azura was gone.

            Corrin deflated, moving in the silence until she stood sloped and small. She touched her hand to the hollow of her throat. Her pointer finger traced the smooth curve of the dragonstone. It seemed heavier now, a constant weight against her throat. She curled her fingers around its cool, hard surface, peeling it from her skin and holding it clenched in hand. The jagged teeth of its chain bit into the soft nape of her neck.

_One day, it’ll all be over._

The dragonstone swung back into its resting place as she let her hand fall away. She sighed, pushing the air up so that it jostled the baby hairs twisting from her hairline. She turned to her desk and to the bared map that lay atop it. She ran her fingers over the crown of her skull and then pulled the chair free before descending into it.

            Her left leg throbbed so she rubbed at the thick, ropey scar that lay across her thigh beneath the thin fabric of her pants. Then, she retrieved the translation text she’d been working through and began reading it anew.

 

* * *

 

            Sakura sat atop a bedspread that wasn’t hers. A plush decorative pillow separated her spine from the wall. Her legs ached, but she didn’t move. Her sister sat beside her, nursing a bottomless glass of wine that she sipped and refilled as she saw fit. Camilla occupied a chair in front of them while Beruka was a shadow by the window. The air smelled like rotted roses.            

            _I want to go to bed,_ Sakura thought.

            “All I’m saying is that creepy little dolls might not make the best decorations,” Hinoka said. The creepy little dolls to which Hinoka referred were held in Camilla’s hand and strewn throughout the room, clashing with the decadence of the plush, plum colored rug hiding the wooden floor and the filigreed gold-rimmed mirror that stood in the corner.   

            Sakura’s first thought upon entering the Nohrian’s room had been, _Where did she get all this stuff from?_

            “They’re tradition, darling,” Camilla said. She smiled through her full lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Sakura watched her manicured thumb and forefinger strain white around the doll’s feeble throat. From what Sakura could tell, the dolls were made from strands of wheat tied together and then painted with smiling faces and rosy cheeks.   

            “Not in Hoshido,” Hinoka said. Then, she finished off the rest of her glass and nudged Sakura to pass her the bottle from the nightstand. Sakura did without hesitation.

            “Maybe, we could just use the ones we already have and make some other decorations too?” Elise peeped from her chair in the far corner, across from the mirror. She’d been sequestered there long before Hinoka had dragged Sakura to Camilla’s. Sakura did her best not to look at her, but she caught glimpses of golden pigtails and half-lidded eyes in the mirror regardless.

            “Yeah, that’s good! The best of both worlds!” Hinoka said, extending the bottle to Camilla who set down the doll to top off her glass. The doll’s flat, black eyes stared out at Sakura from above its frozen, grinning mouth.

            “I suppose I can live with that,” Camilla sighed, crossing her legs at the ankle between the legs of her chair.

            On the notepad Camilla had given her, Sakura scrawled a check mark by the words _Wheat dolls._ Above it spanned a list of things from the selected entrée and the musicians of choice to the dress code and the planned activities. The decorations were the only aspect left in need of discussion. _Harvest celebration_ encompassed the top line surrounded by doodles of butterflies and skeletons. Though she’d been tasked with documenting their discussion and agreements, Sakura thought the whole thing was pointless.

            _The harvest was over a month ago,_ she thought.

            “Oh, Elise!” Camilla cooed. “Do you remember those flower garlands you made for Leo’s birthday three years ago? Do you think you could make those?”  

            In the mirror, Elise’s profile was somber. Sakura couldn’t remember the last time they’d spoken.

            With a shake of her head, Elise said, “It’s winter, Camilla.”

            “Drat!” 

            Camilla slapped her hand against the table at her side. Sakura startled, shaking the bed and her sister’s arm. The burgundy wine sloshed in the glass, leaving bloody imprints on the crystal. Hinoka levelled her with a temperate glare. The puff of her cheeks was tinted a hazy pink.

            “Maybe we could do centerpieces instead?” Elise suggested.

            Sakura wrote _Centerpieces_ on a fresh line. The past three hours had taught her that most of Elise’s suggestions were quickly taken up. It was the only thing the past three hours had taught her. The entire planning session had been spent listening to Camilla and Elise go back and forth with Hinoka interjecting disagreeably whenever she could. Sakura hadn’t said a word. She didn’t know anything about party planning.

            _But neither does Hinoka._

Sakura still couldn’t wrap her head around Corrin asking Camilla _and_ Hinoka to plan a “celebration to boost morale.” It was either a ham-fisted attempt to foster amnesty or she truly didn’t know Hinoka at all.

            _Hinoka’s pegasus probably knows more about planning a party than she does¸_ Sakura thought as her wrist curved to begin her newest doodle of a split glass of wine.

            “I like that,” Camilla said. Hinoka shrugged. Sakura drew another check mark as Elise began to suggest specific ideas for centerpieces. Sakura stopped listening. She began to doodle a bird.

            “Do you think Corrin will like that?” Elise asked after Camilla suggested tiny, woven dragons as centerpieces.

            “Do you think Corrin will even have the time?” Hinoka muttered into her wine. Sakura slowed in sketching the bird’s feet, simultaneously staring at her sister in surprise at the admission and bracing for Camilla’s vehement response. She’d once witnessed the woman harangue an unsuspecting priestess who’d complained about Corrin’s frequent inspections of the infirmary for a solid hour.

            But Camilla only sighed.

            “I hope she will, but I can’t say that I’m hopeful,” she said. “The only times I ever hear from her are at war councils or through my brother.”

            Sakura watched Elise’s ponytails bounce in solemn agreement. Then, Hinoka shifted on the bed, twisting her legs underneath her and bumping Sakura’s arm as she announced, “It’s the same for me. If it weren’t for Ryoma’s updates, I’d forget she existed.”  

            _No, you wouldn’t,_ Sakura thought, remembering the years spent lamenting a sister who had been stolen. But she understood where Hinoka was coming from.

            Across from her, Camilla lifted her glass to Hinoka, saying, “I’ll drink to that. And even the tidbits Xander passes on fail to paint a full picture. I asked him how her and Silas are doing and he said he hears more about their relationship from Silas than from her!”

            Sakura remembered the fight between Corrin and Silas in the aftermath of the possessed scout. The anger in their voices still colored her thoughts.

            Hinoka leaned forward, taking a drink from her glass as Camilla did the same before saying, “Right? I asked Ryoma the same thing and he just shrugged and said she doesn’t talk about it! Like, okay, she doesn’t talk about it, but you’re her brother! Ask her!”

            Sakura began to doodle again, but her lines were shaky and uneven. She thought, _What about Takumi? When’s the last time you heard from him?_

Then, she stared down at the haphazard mess of lines that had once been a bird and thought, _I haven’t heard from him in a while._

The last time she’d even _seen_ him, beyond the expected meals and meetings, was two weeks passed. She’d watched him from her window, high above the courtyard, as he headed for the arena in the dead of night. She’d tried asking him about it at breakfast the next day, but he’d just shrugged.

            _And I didn’t push him._

            She’d thought about going to his retainers, but Hinata was fiercely defensive and Oboro was just plain intimidating. She feared they would both take her questions as accusations of failure.

From the corner, in a low voice, Elise announced, “I don’t know how they’re relationship’s going, but Silas said he’s worried about how much Corrin’s changed.”

            Sakura felt her stomach knot. She watched her sister’s face slacken and her free hand clench as Camilla gasped, “That weasel! Corrin doesn’t know, does she?”

            The mirror reflected Elise’s wince.

            “Oh, Elise!” Camilla sighed as Elise cried, “Xander asked me to!”

            “Oh, what does he know?” Hinoka huffed and, though her statement was received as a passing commentary on men, Sakura could tell from the oily edge to her voice that it stemmed from the many times she’d butt heads with him during war council.

            “Next time, you come to me, Elise,” Camilla said, nodding to Elise. “Xander may mean well, but that doesn’t mean he _does_ well.”

            “You wouldn’t have told her?” Hinoka intoned, finishing off the last of her wine. She didn’t reach for the bottle. It was empty.

            Camilla straightened her back, answering, “No, I wouldn’t have. Not initially. There’s no need to upset her prematurely.”

            Hinoka hummed low in her throat. Sakura was proud of her for suppressing her disagreement.

            “But Camilla,” Elise said, “you don’t even _like_ Silas.”

            Sakura laid her pen flat against the paper. Her urge to doodle had passed. She longed for the comfort of her bed.

            “I don’t _mind_ Silas,” Camilla said. “And besides, given all the other eligible bachelors, he’s certainly the best fit for her.”

            _Subaki would be in heaven,_ Sakura thought. Her retainer collected and shared gossip more than anyone else she had ever met, or even heard of. The topic of her sister’s relationship was one of his favorites if only because it garnered the most attention from any given group of people.

            “I’m not so sure about that,” Hinoka chimed. “There are plenty of others who’d be good for her.”

            Camilla’s face soured, but only around the edges of her eyes.

            _Please don’t start a fight,_ Sakura pleaded with her eyes, but Hinoka didn’t look at her. She squared her shoulders and said, “Subaki.”

            Sakura winched. Not only was there no worse suggestion in the world than Corrin and Subaki, but Subaki was one of the few constants in her life. Sometimes, it felt like he and Hana were the only people she could rely on.

            “You honestly think Corrin could stomach that gossip’s constant twittering?” Camilla asked, fanning her hand before her and making a show of examining her nails.

            Sakura wanted to take offense, but Camilla was right. Subaki did twitter. Constantly.

            Hinoka hummed, seemingly coming to a similar conclusion, and suggested instead, “Hinata then.”

            Camilla tsked, shaking her head.  

            “He’s fine by day, but a sloppy drunk by night.”

            “Damn, you’re right,” Hinoka conceded with a scowl. “Well, how about Saizo?”

            Sakura frowned at her sister.

            _Saizo?_ she wanted to question. _Do you even know Corrin at all?_

Camilla hid a laugh behind her hand, saying, “That grump? He isn’t even capable of having friends let alone a _girlfriend.”_

Sakura watched her sister’s eyebrows flatten as she announced, “He and Kagero had a thing for a while.”

            “He and _Kagero?”_ Camilla exclaimed, leaning forward ever so slightly. “What was she thinking?”

            Hinoka shrugged, a begrudging smile on her lips.

            “Who knows, but she’s with my brother now so clearly her taste in men is abysmal.”

            Camilla laughed. Sakura had no idea what was happening. It seemed like only yesterday that Camilla had been screaming and spitting in Hinoka’s face. Now, they were bantering like old friends. She glanced at Elise’s reflection but found lavender eyes staring back at her. She hung her head and pretended to read over her list.

            “Okay, so Subaki and Hinata are off the table and Saizo is a miser, but what about Kaden? He and Corrin have similar personalities,” Hinoka insisted.

            “Good gods, think of the children, Hinoka!” Camilla cried, voice shrill with dramatic alarm. Hinoka slung her arms across her chest and chuckled.

            Sakura had to swallow her surprise so that it didn’t spill out onto her face, but it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant feeling.

            _If they can put their differences aside, maybe Elise and I can too._

But then Elise was piping up from the corner, hesitantly suggesting, “What about Xander?”

            Sakura’s stomach tightened into a fist as Camilla laughed a cold, chittering laugh that wrinkled her face and sputtered, “Oh, absolutely not!” and Hinoka’s face darkened to rival the meanest storm cloud and spat, “Hell no.”

            Then, Hinoka and Camilla glared at each other. Whatever their reasonings were, they didn’t share them. The burgeoning friendliness had dissipated. Their animosity sucked all the air from the room. Sakura saw Elise’s reflection wilt. Her eyes were liquidous. Her face was wrought tight with worry lines carving divots into her flesh.

            _Why did you ask that?_ Sakura wanted to ask her, but the possible answers turned her insides to poison. She already feared the future after the war, after Anankos, and the damage Corrin could enact.

            _She turned from both of us in the war,_ Sakura thought as her chest constricted, _but she’ll have to choose a side eventually._

“We were talking about centerpieces?” Camilla said, coolly. Beruka loomed by the window, making her presence known for the first time since Sakura had arrived.

            Sakura took up the pen once more. She set fire to all her doodles, wreathing them in cartoon flame. She wanted to go to bed and sleep for a millennia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of moving parts in this chapter. Sometimes, I regret embarking on such a demanding journey, but I have to remind myself that I genuinely enjoy writing this and I stop being so crotchety lol.  
> I've taken quite a few liberties with Hinoka's character simply because I never really got a feel for her in game. The same goes for Azura, but I've aimed to write her with the same canon personality, just more of it lol. We get so little from Azura when shes arguably the most important character and I've just never understood that decision. Or the decision to make Corrin the player character. Azura is infinitely more interesting given her history & lived experiences where as Corrin is just an amnesiac dragon with the power of Naivety and Friendship on their side. But I digress.  
> I hope y'all enjoy! <3


	15. Antifogmatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corrin enjoys the tavern amenities. Leo babysits.

            Corrin sat in the middle of the tavern, longing for the soft comfort of her bed. It had been a long day, as all her days had become, but it stretched longer the more time she spent listening to jokes with dick in the punchline. It wasn’t the first time she’d sat with Silas’ friends, but it was the first time she didn’t find herself charmed. Their raunchy humor and crude stories held little interest for her. But she endured it to spend the time with Silas.

            Nights in the tavern were the only significant time she got with him anymore. Her busy schedule pulled her in five different directions at once, but she did all she could to get a few minutes between traveling from place to place to share a kiss.

            _Though the kisses have turned to hugs,_ Corrin thought.

            On more than one occasion, she’d considered inviting him to stay the night, but each suggestion towards achieving a deeper intimacy was met with awkward misunderstanding. Their relationship was tearing at the seams and she couldn’t help but place the strain at the night spent staring into the face of the enemy through the bars of a jail cell. 

            Every so often, she would catch sight of Leo from across the room where he scowled and glared at the mirth around him. Sometimes, he would meet her gaze and make a show of rolling his eyes or sticking out his tongue, but he never moved to join her.

            _I don’t blame him._

Braying laughter broke out around her. She didn’t laugh. She didn’t even understand the joke.

            Now, she stared at Leo, but he didn’t return her gaze. She could see contempt wrinkling his face and then she couldn’t see him at all as a throng of chattering women passed in front of her in pursuit of the bar. Each one wore a variation on the same sheer dress with their hair coiled intricately atop their smooth, sweeping necks. Their legs seemed to get longer and longer as they moved past. The cloying scent of perfumed sex tinged the air in hues of lust and admiration.          

            When they’d passed, Corrin tried to imagine what she’d look like with dark rimmed eyes and artistically styled hair, but she’d never been taught and certainly didn’t have the time to learn.

            Banishing the ill-fated whim, Corrin looked across the room to the little table Leo occupied. For most of the night, his compatriots had consisted of his retainers and their associated friends, but Odin and Niles had since left him. Camilla had taken Niles’ seat and now stirred her drink and bared the same stiff-jawed, hooded-eye distaste as Leo.

            Charlotte sat to Leo’s right and talked animatedly to the pair of siblings, but Corrin guessed she wasn’t saying much of anything beyond gushing compliments. It had taken months for Corrin to crack the blonde’s relentless flattery in order to meet the brilliant woman beneath and, judging by the quintessentially Nohrian scowls adorning their faces, Camilla and Leo hadn’t quite warmed up to Charlotte yet.

            _Maybe I should go over and try to break the ice a little?_ she thought, itching for a reason to excuse herself, but then she saw the source of Camilla and Leo’s annoyance as the crowd parted to herald the arrival of a fourth member. He claimed the open seat before Charlotte and then offered a modest glass of wine to her.  

            Some cruel fate drew his attention and he met her gaze. He smiled at her in friendly recognition. She blushed and then she dropped her stare to an imperfection in the table’s surface before her. She traced it dully with her finger until the beat in her ears fell beneath the tempo of the music again.

            _Of all nights to make a debut here, he picks tonight,_ Corrin thought, drawing the flat of her finger off the edge of the table so that it fell to her lap with a thunk. Neither Silas or any of his friends noticed. Her face was hot. She didn’t know how to cool it.            

            Something had happened the night before. A slip in her subconscious that had led to full blown, ridiculous, _stupid_ fantasy as she slumbered.  

            _But it didn’t mean anything._

            To prove her indifference, she chanced another glance, but Charlotte’s svelte form blocked much of her view. She didn’t shift her vantage to get a better look.             

            _It **doesn’t** mean anything, _she thought, but her stomach rolled and her fingers balled into fists atop her thighs.

            _It doesn’t mean anything._

No matter that it had been a welcome change in her dreamscape. No matter that her guilt sat high and heavy within her ribs. No matter that the sight of him now had sent phantom, imagined memory sparking inside her chest and tensed her hands against the smooth of her leggings. No matter that Orochi had hummed in haughty acknowledgment of it and then said nothing else.

            It was a passing attraction, but it gnawed at her heart. It felt like unconscious betrayal. She loved Silas, genuinely and sincerely, but everything else kept getting in the way.

            “You can’t trust a thing they say, Corrin,” Silas said, nudging her with her elbow.

            She jerked upright. A quick sweep of the others’ faces revealed no clues of what had been said. She offered a laugh.

            Silas smiled. The others jeered.

            “Oh boo, don’t lie to the poor woman! You know damn well you drank me under the table that night in Nestra!” one of them cried, shaking their beer at Silas in accusation.

            Silas chuckled, saying, “I remember you getting very drunk, but that’s all.”

            The same one shouted in indignation, slamming their flagon against the table and crying in mock offense, “Are you also gonna lie about the night we got shitfaced and stole old McVaney’s horse?”

            “I have no recollection,” Silas said, but he smirked.

            Corrin smiled, but it cracked before it could reach her eyes.  She couldn’t imagine Silas as a drinker. She’d never seen him indulge more than two drinks in a night. Plus, he had never mentioned anything of the sort.  

            _But there are things he doesn’t know about me,_ she thought. Her gaze dropped to a string fraying from the end of her sleeve. She pulled at it, but it only unraveled further. The conversation around her shifted into another retelling of Silas’ drunken escapades, but she only listened with her expressions, taking her cues from the bouts of laughter and scoffs that erupted from the men around her. The space between her shoulder blades grew as the story went on.

            Silas’ arm snaked around the back of her chair, dusting the tips of her shoulders with fleeting touch. She glanced at him, hoping to find gentle reassurance in his stare, but he didn’t look at her. He nodded animatedly and then threw his head back and laughed from his belly at whatever had been said.

            Corrin didn’t listen at all anymore. She watched him grin and chuckle and blossom while she shrank farther into her chair and thought, _I can’t make him laugh like that._

The musicians started up a waltz she didn’t recognize. The traipsing chords cascaded between the breaks in the conversation and laughter enveloping her. One of Silas’ friends lit a cigar, saying, “I hope no one minds a little smoke!”

            And Corrin minded very much, but she didn’t say anything as they lit the cigar and began blowing smoke rings. Another story was told, but she didn’t even attempt to follow it. Silas laughed again. It was the loudest noise in the world.     

            The smoke burned her nose and the conversation crushed her throat and she was sinking into the vivid, jittering anxiety that crested against the backs of her eyes over and over.

            _Not here, not now,_ Corrin thought and then she was jerking up from her seat and the backdrop of sweating, dancing bodies stagnated into blocks of formless color and Silas looked at her but he didn’t say anything and his silence screamed at her more than his words ever could and then she was moving for the door and maybe she said something but her voice seemed like a wisp instead of a sound and everything was so goddamn loud and her fingernails carved strips from her palms and then she was outside.

            The door thumped shut behind her. The sound, muffled and drowned and bloodied, oozed from the cracks in the doorframe. Her eyes seared from unshed tears.

            _Stop it,_ she thought, bringing her arms hard and tight over her chest to ease the stabbing there. But, the more she tried to control it, the more she slipped away. Her legs bent until she was on the ground and crumpled against the wall and her breaths came in haggard, frenzied, desperate gasps and her hands shook and shook and the muted colors of the night smeared and blurred until they were a blank canvas for her rolling, unstoppable panic and the black of the sky was streaking from the heavens to crush her and she drove the heels of her hands against her mouth to keep from shrieking, but the sound came out, wet and gasping, and her fingers fisted against her brow and her hands smashed her nose between them and all she wanted to be was better.

            When it was over, she uncurled from herself and stared up into the sky. The stars were hidden behind a veil of rolling clouds. She watched her breath vaporize. The frigid air froze the salt of her tears against the curvature of her face.

            _I thought I was better._

            But she wasn’t. She probably never would be.  

            Corrin stood. Her head hurt in the black behind her eyes. She rubbed at her temples, but it made no difference.

            She swiped at the lingering moisture in her eyes until it was gone and, when she blinked, there was only a dry ache. She straightened her shirt, shifting it so that it clung in all the right places instead of the wrong ones. She ran her fingers through her hair, but they were tangled in seconds so she tied it back instead. Then, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

            As the sound hit her and she stared out at the dancing mass, all she wanted was to go to bed.

            _But I don’t want to leave Silas._

            She found him through the crowd. He glanced her way and he waved, but he didn’t seem the least bit concerned that she had left. Her mouth wobbled so she took her lower lip between her teeth.

            Stares burrowed into her exposed flesh so she held her head high and straightened her spine until she stood as tall as she could manage. She began the trek back to the table with leaden feet, but, before she could reclaim her seat, someone shouted, “Hey Corrin!”

            Turning, she found Hinata waving at her. Once, she’d spent her nights being entertained by Hinata’s drunken antics as he sang and joked and pranked his way through the tavern, but it had been months, no over a year, since she’d last passed the time in his company.

            She walked to him, an inkling of escape nibbling at the tension coiled tight in her stomach. He grinned at her. His face was shiny from sweat and from drink.

            “You look like you could use a drink,” he said as he fisted his fingers except for thumb and pinky and made a gesture of drinking.

            “Yeah,” she said, “I think I could.”

 

* * *

 

            For years, Leo had thought there was no greater hell than bearing the brunt of his father’s disappointment, but, now, sitting alone with his brother and Charlotte, he knew that hell came in all kinds of forms and faces. He longed to rend his ears from his skull to be spared from Charlotte’s bleeding admiration.

            He watched as Charlotte directed his brother’s attention elsewhere, pointing her manicured finger and brushing up against him ever so slightly. Then, she feigned embarrassment at the small touch, chittering and chirping like a bird in spring.

            _I am actually going to vomit._

            For a while, Camilla had sat in solidary disgust with him, but she’d since found her own prey and left him to deal with Charlotte’s saccharine, ooey gooey flirting with his brother on his own. He’d tried escaping, but Corrin had since vanished and there was no one else he was comfortable enough with to sit with as Niles was currently knocking back shot after shot in a drinking contest against Subaki with no end in sight and Odin was striking out with Selena for the third time that week.

            Leo did his best to focus on his retainers’ antics, but Charlotte’s trilling voice was in just the perfect register so that, no matter how hard he tried to tune her out, he heard every little amorous compliment and innuendo she made. 

            “Oh, I bet you have to spend a lot of time at the hot springs, what with how dirty you must get from all that hard work,” Charlotte cooed, flittering her illogically long lashes as she sipped from her glass.

            Leo dropped his head back to glare up at the ceiling and suppress a groan threatening to draw their attention to him. Through the din, he could only hear his brother’s nervous chuckle and not whatever gratingly polite response he gave.

            _Just tell her to leave,_ Leo thought as Charlotte’s tinkling laugh launched a barrage on his ears. But Xander would never do that. He was always exceedingly kind to the women that fawned over him to the point that it drove Leo insane. In any other instance, his brother was capable and, often, more than willing to behavior curtly and coldly.

            _But gods forbid he be rude to gold-diggers._

Leo stared up at the candlelight gyrating on the ceiling and tried not to think of his mother and the nine vials she’d kept hidden and labelled with each of his siblings’ names until there’d only been three left.

            “You’re so funny!” Charlotte trilled. Then, she was giggling again and he could imagine her twirling a strand of her hair around her finger like Elise used to when she’d been younger.

            Leo’s stomach turned. Charlotte’s attempts to infantilize herself struck him in the soft of his chest and hardened his belly. He wondered if his mother had used a similar approach to entice his father. Surely, she had to have masked her true demeanor somehow.

            _Unless father really only cared for her worth in bed._

            Leo felt like a looming maw of darkness amid the bright merriment surrounding him. He wanted to leave. He wanted to rise up and throttle his brother. He wanted to disappear. 

            The tendons in his neck began to cramp and strain so he lifted his head before craning it from side to side. The motion did nothing to alleviate his discomfort so he sat slouched and irritable, no longer bothering to mask his glare.

            “Are you alright, Leo?” Xander asked.

            Leo saw bald, virulent annoyance wrinkle Charlotte’s painted face before it vanished beneath an imitation of concern.

            “My head hurts,” Leo said without a hint of inflection. He levelled his stare on Charlotte, attempting to indicate the source of his annoyance without naming it outright. His brother’s brow furrowed. Charlotte pounced.

            “Is it the noise?” she asked. “It always gives me such a headache, not that I come here often.”      

            He glared at her. Her pert lips flattened into the ghost of sneer as she suggested, “Sleep is really the best cure for such a thing, milord.”

            He kept his arms crossed tight over his chest so that his clenched fists were hidden beneath the swell of his sleeves.

            “Somehow, I don’t think you have my health in mind,” Leo drawled. Charlotte’s heavily shadowed eye twitched. Her lashes cast a quivering shadow over the crescent of her cheek. Beside her, Xander inched away.

            “Milord?”

            Her voice was fatally sweet. Her form was perfectly still beyond that single, twitching eye. Leo had seen her in battle once and the raging calm she exemplified now was the same she’d displayed as she’d launched a thrall twice her height and size nearly thirty feet across the battlefield.

            But Leo wasn’t scared of her. He felt like fighting.

            _I hope she flips the table,_ he thought, but he never got to push her to her breaking point as his ensuing insult was lost in an explosion of rhythmic pounding from the opposite side of the tavern.

            It was a lead in to a Hoshidian drinking song, Leo knew from all his nights spent as Niles’ keeper, but it had never been this _damn_ loud before. The pounding spread towards them and then Corrin came rushing past in a blur of black and silver, slamming her hands twice on their table and making half full glasses slosh with beer. Then, she was assailing the next table in the same manner, encouraging its occupants to pick up the rhythm. Takumi’s retainer, the annoying one, Hinata, followed after her, giving the table a good slap in her wake and calling after her to slow down.

            Leo watched her in open-mouthed shock until she disappeared back into the crowd. Normally, she stayed to the shadows, like he and all the royals did, rather than mingling with the rabble, but tonight, she had entered the fray. And he had no idea why.

            _Has she completely lost it?_ he thought as Charlotte began to shout over the racket. She’d lost all interest in him, fixating his brother in her sights once more.

            The words began, loud and barraging, and everyone in the venue that knew even a little bit of it joined in as the pounding faded to the shouted, slurred lyrics.

            He could see Corrin, sitting up on the stage by the musicians, her legs dangling off the edge, directing the crowd. Hinata stood by her side, belting the lyrics out to the eager crowd. Leo watched Corrin’s mouth twist around the words before she gave up entirely and spent the rest of the song nursing a bottle and he thought, _Oh gods, she’s drunk._

He glanced at his brother, to see if he’d noticed, but Xander’s attention lay with avoiding Charlotte’s increasingly forward attempts at physical contact. Leo rolled his eyes as the song died down around him. In the lull, he heard Corrin shout, “Do the one… the one about the bloody business!”

            Leo squirmed. He knew that song well. It’d been one of his father’s favorites. As murmurs of discontent rose, on the stage, Hinata bent down to whisper into Corrin’s ear. Leo watched him teeter towards the edge and wondered if the samurai would even notice if he fell or if he was too drunk to feel the world around him.

            He watched Corrin wave her hand at Hinata and then take another long draw from the bottle she held. He wondered who’d given it to her as she set it down beside her and then laid flat on her back. Beside her, Hinata shouted the name of another drinking song and the crowd screamed.

            Leo glanced at the exodus of Nohrian patrons streaming through the doors. He would have joined them if Niles wasn’t currently knocking back his twelfth shot and slurring, “Punk ass bitch” at a pink-faced Subaki.

            Charlotte seemed to have a similar idea, loudly suggesting to Xander, “Maybe we should take this conversation elsewhere?”

            The uncertainty on his brother’s face made Leo’s skin crawl.

            _Do you want a bastard?_ _Because that’s how you get a bastard,_ Leo wanted to say as Xander’s gaze roved towards him, but he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from giving a voice to his glower. Xander’s stare moved past him.

            Leo turned to find the crowd splitting to make way for Camilla and a stumbling Corrin. He saw Camilla’s hand wrapped tight around Corrin’s waist, keeping her in step behind her.

            “Somebody doesn’t know how to hold their liquor,” Camilla said, sticking Corrin in the chair beside Leo.

            “I was holding it just fine before you took it from me,” Corrin grumbled. Her words weren’t quite slurred, but they stuck together. Strands of her hair had fallen from her ponytail, framing her face like sparse curtains. She sat in the chair with her legs splayed and her arm strung along the back while she leaned into its left edge, only a small shove away from a tumble. Her eyes were dim as she stared out at the line dance that had broken out on the floor.

            Leo turned to his sister and saw her gaze fixated on Charlotte and Xander. Charlotte had begun to whine about leaving while Xander floundered. Camilla scoffed and then turned to Leo, announcing, “I’m going to get Silas.”

            “Why?” Leo asked.

            Before Camilla could answer, Corrin scooted her chair to the table beside them and began chatting zealously with the soldiers seated there. Camilla shook her head, but didn’t intercede. She said, “Because she won’t listen to me and her retainers are nowhere to be found.”

            Leo scowled.

            “He’s not her keeper.”

            Camilla frowned, insisting, “She’ll listen to him.”

            During the argument, Corrin had begun arm-wrestling one of the soldiers. Within seconds of a shout to begin, she laid his arm flat.

            As the man shook out his arm and shelved his pride, Corrin took his drink and gulped it down. Her face soured immediately and then she demanded, “What is this?”           

            But no one paying attention had an answer to give her. She drank the rest of it with a shrug.

            Camilla scowled and stepped forward, hooking her hand around the top of Corrin’s chair. Then, she dragged Corrin back to Leo’s side, dragging the chair’s legs along the wood floor so that they screeched. Corrin sat dumbfounded throughout her entire move, staring at Camilla in slow wonder.

            Then, Camilla left, grumbling incoherently to herself. Corrin stared after her in silence.

            “Corrin,” Leo said and she turned on him, wiping foam from her lips and crying his name like she hadn’t seen him in years.

            She wasn’t quite sloppy, but she was definitely drunk. Her eyes were bright and her words were loud. He couldn’t imagine how much she’d had to drink to overcome her massive daily caloric intake. He feared for her liver.

            “We’re always too busy for each other,” she lamented, scooching her chair closer. She smelled like whiskey. She laid her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Her grip was ironclad. He winced.

            “But we gotta make time for each other,” she said. “What’s the point of saving the world if you can’t hang out with your friends?”

            Leo couldn’t think of anything to say. She was the one who was always too busy, not him. Her hand fell away from his shoulder.

            “You’re my best friend,” she announced, voice syrupy with sincerity.

            Then, her expression sobered until all the glittering emotion had tucked back into the ruby red of her irises. Leo followed her line of sight to his brother and Charlotte. She began to chew on her lip and he wanted her to share her annoyance so he could share his, but she didn’t say anything. She shifted her focus past the point of return when a man approached challenging her to another arm-wrestling match. And Leo knew that he should have interceded but it seemed a decent enough way for her to keep entertained so that he didn’t end up chasing her around the tavern.

            But then there was another man lined up behind the first and then another and another as she burned through each. As the list of losers grew so did her stash of alcohol as they deposited half drunk flagons on the table after she’d dispatched them.

            _Camilla’s going to kill me,_ he thought, but he didn’t know what to do. It could only have been five minutes and her access to alcohol had increased tenfold. But the ever-growing line of challengers kept her from imbibing and each resounding _thump_ of her driving a man’s arm into the table brought a twitch to Charlotte’s otherwise impeccable expression so Leo posited, _It isn’t all bad._

A crowd was growing around them and Corrin began to make a show of arm-wrestling, allowing the men to push her arm nearly to the point of defeat before swiftly laying their arms flat in only a few seconds. As his personal space diminished, he scooted closer to Corrin, hoping that the onlookers wouldn’t push so close as to disturb her. From the other end of the table, he heard Charlotte’s emphatic requests to leave grow desperate.

            As Corrin’s next challenger, a man that looked more like a bowling ball than a human, took the position across from her, Leo stood from his chair, peering over the crowd for his sister’s purple tresses but seeing only an ever-expanding circle of spectators.

            _Shit._

He sat back down and, watching Corrin toy with her opponent by rocking his arm back and forth in a pretend test of strength, he began to pick at the raised skin around his gnawed thumbnail. He glanced at his brother, but Xander seemed completely oblivious to the situation despite his proximity to its drunken epicenter. Charlotte had gone into a full pout and waxed poetic about having to make the trek back to her room alone.

            _Chivalry is dead,_ Leo would have told her, but he never got the chance for Corrin slammed her challenger’s arm against the table with such driving force that the wood shook in its bearings and knocked over every glass on the surface, showering Charlotte in an entire still’s worth of beer and wine.

            The world went quiet as the petite blonde shot upright and the bow of her lips lost all pretense of sensuality, curving into a feral snarl. Leo was familiar with the expression, but had only ever seen it on rampaging Faceless before. Unnaturally slow, Charlotte turned her smoky eyes on Corrin, staring with an intensity to rival his father’s.

            Leo jerked away instinctively and so severely that he tore off a thin strip of skin from his thumb. The injury bled so he wrapped with the hem of his shirt and then thought of it no more.

            _I need to get Corrin out of here,_ he thought, franticly formulating an escape before Charlotte enacted her berserker rage. He wished for Camilla to emerge from the dense crowd and match Charlotte’s malevolent energy with her own, but his sister was nowhere to be seen.

            Corrin seemed completely oblivious to the danger. She stared at the spilled drink and Charlotte’s soiled dress before smiling good-naturedly and saying, “Oh! I’m sorry Charlotte!”

            Then, she turned to the amassed crowd, asking, “Does anyone have any napkins?”

            Benny, who Leo only knew because everyone always spoke of his ferocious appearance, came forward, a plain handkerchief in hand. Leo watched him approach Charlotte as if she were a wild animal, taking slow steps and raising his hands before him to ward off an attack.

            “Remember your breathings,” he murmured as he carefully dabbed at Charlotte’s soaked arm. Her nostrils flared. The natural nude of her face had gone bone white with fury beneath the rosy hue of her rouge.

            Benny handed the handkerchief to her when her arm lay dry, but she slapped it from his hand. Leo watched it flutter until it disappeared beneath the table.

            Charlotte stood, suddenly. Her chair shot out from beneath her, scraping against the wood. She stalked towards Corrin, who only scowled.

            “Cat fight!” someone cawed, but they were immediately shushed.

            Leo’s bloodied thumb throbbed with his unsteady heartbeat as he watched Charlotte take the seat across from Corrin and jab her elbow into the table’s hard surface, flexing her fingers in an open declaration of aggression.  

            Corrin met Charlotte’s challenge, clasping the other woman’s hand in her own. Someone called, “Go!”

            Neither woman’s arm moved. They stayed perfectly balanced. An unsuspecting onlooker might have thought they were still waiting for a command to begin. The only thing that had changed was Corrin’s placid expression, now twisted in confusion and consternation. And then her arm ticked back towards the table.

            Muffled gasps rang out.

            _Thank gods I didn’t piss her off earlier,_ Leo thought, staring into Charlotte’s unblinking eyes.  

            Beneath the thin fabric of her sleeves, Leo could see Corrin’s muscles clench and strain as she pushed Charlotte’s arm back. The blonde woman bared her teeth. Her bulging arm began to quiver. Even as she lost ground, Leo feared, _She could crush me like a grape without even trying._

He had never feared the same of Corrin. He’d seen the bruises she’d given his brother and knew that she could turn him into dust with a single, well-placed kick, but he had faith that she would never turn her immense strength on him.

            _But Charlotte would absolutely kill me if given the legal opportunity,_ he thought as she reestablished equilibrium with Corrin.

            Leo looked to his brother for a template of how to react, but found only rapt amazement and couldn’t fathom how to construct his face in the same way. If it was unbecoming on Xander, he couldn’t imagine how foolish he’d look.

            He returned his attention to the match, watching Corrin and Charlotte’s arms struggle against the other like coiled snakes. In the flickering light, they almost seemed to share the same, monstrous appendage crafted of molded steel and shaped into a poor approximation of humanity.    

            And then Corrin pinned Charlotte’s arm in a single, fluid surge. The eruption of rapturous applause deafened him. Corrin and Charlotte’s hands still lay intertwined, Charlotte’s blotching pink from the pressure of being driven into the table. Then, she released her grip, standing with more dignity than Leo had known she possessed.

            Benny ushered her away quickly, but she held her head high, even as the dim light made unfortunate shadows of the alcohol stains on her dress. Then she was gone from his midst, heading towards the exit of the tavern. As the crowd pressed in on Corrin in chirping delight, he caught only a brief glimpse of Charlotte’s façade cracking as she shrieked and sent her stilettoed heel into the wall paneling.   

            Corrin looked to him in bewilderment as she drowned beneath drunken congratulations. Her eyes were still hazy from drink.

            _I wonder if she even knows what just happened,_ Leo thought as he rubbed at his temples to alleviate the headache that yawned between them.  

            _I wonder if I even know what the hell just happened._

            “What’s all this?” Leo heard as the cheering died out.

            Relief pulsed in his chest as his sister broke through the onlookers with a knight in tow. 

            “Shoo!” Camilla cried, waving her hands at the crowd like she had always done at the crows that liked to congregate beneath her window back in Krakenburg. Begrudgingly, the mass scattered until only he, his two siblings, Silas, and Corrin were left.

            “Silas!” Corrin cried, standing up so fast that she wobbled. She stumbled towards him, throwing her arms around him to catch herself and hugging like he was the mast of a sinking ship. Then, she took Silas’ face between her hands and kissed him sloppily.

            Leo tried to keep his face free of disdain, but judging from the look Camilla sent his way, he’d failed.

            “I love you,” Corrin announced, pulling away from Silas. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anybody.”

            For just a moment, Silas blanched. Corrin didn’t seem to notice. She looked at him through soft, doe eyes and fluttering lashes. Vicarious embarrassment churned the acid in Leo’s stomach.

            “I love you too,” Silas said at last. “Now, why don’t you let Camilla get you in bed?”

            Corrin laughed and a night spent in Charlotte’s company prepared Leo for her following, slurring suggestion of, “Why don’t you get me in bed?”

            _And that’s about all I can take for tonight,_ Leo thought, turning from them to his siblings as Silas said, “Maybe another night.”

            Xander’s brow was furrowed and Camilla’s lips were pursed and Leo knew that they both had something to say, but he didn’t care to listen. Babysitting drunk Corrin had sapped all his energy to be civil and accommodating. He scowled at their pressing expressions and then trudged to the table where Niles drunkenly babbled to anyone that had the misfortune of drawing near, bracing himself for a deluge of double entendre and drunken antics. But at least he knew what to expect.

            _I’d take a drunk Niles over a drunk Corrin any day,_ he thought, rubbing at his forehead and hoping that he wouldn’t be spending the night in the infirmary as Niles detoxed. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the point in the original where it absolutely went off the rails into "oh shit, I gotta write a convincing romance too" territory lol. Hopefully, the same thing doesn't happen as I'm working with some more complex themes & characters this time around, but we shall see.  
> So I know that Leo comes off as a total presumptuous asshole for wanting to gatekeep his brother's sexuality, but I imagine being a bastard borne from a loveless, awful union to a mother that only wanted him to achieve power and dominance probably gives him some deep seated trauma and seeing a similar situation playing out in front of him brings out the worst in him. Also, I know in canon xander just hits charlotte with the "i see what you're doing and you best shape the fuck up or get the fuck out" but that just always struck me as exceedingly harsh because she's not really doing anything wrong? Like sure, she's being deceitful and currying favor with the men but like??? That's not a crime and it's not like the men are fistfighting over her (which they aren't because she behaves the way she does just to get people to like her, not because she's inherently petty or drama oriented) so like, yeah, xander would absolutely be aware and cognizant of what she's doing, but i also can't see him being anything but incredibly awkward about the whole thing (especially since she'd undoubtedly be very into him), but that's just my 2 cents. I also just love Charlotte to the ends of the earth and I wanted to showcase her in all her two-faced glory so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> Hope y'all enjoyed!


	16. Turbulence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kana just wants to take a nap. Sakura has dinner with her family. Corrin receives advice.

            Kana had spent the past two hours under Corrin’s tutelage. He’d run laps until his legs felt like jelly and practiced his stance until his spine throbbed and done crunches until his belly burned and sparred until his arms loosened in their sockets and Corrin had said that he was improving so fast and she was so impressed, but not even her praise could shake the exhaustion that had settled into his head. He needed a nap. Really badly.  

            So maybe that was why he was so upset when he finally got back to the room he shared with Siegbert and Shigure, which he had used to share with Siegbert and Shiro but Soleil had kicked Shigure out of the room they had shared so Shiro had gone to stay with her instead, because everyone was in his room and Soleil and Shigure were fighting again because they were always fighting now since Soleil had found out about Shigure hanging out with their mom and she’d started hanging out with their dad and told Shigure things like, “I was always the favorite anyway.”

            And Kana had gotten used to their fighting even though it made him sad because it happened anytime they were in the same room, but he was annoyed with it now because all he wanted to do was take a little nap before dinner, but Soleil and Shigure were so loud that he knew he’d hear them in his dreams even if he did manage to fall asleep. So he just stripped clean of his dirty training leathers that Corrin had had made special for him and put on his comfy clothes and then sat on his bed with his arms crossed as Shigure began to shout about how Soleil was so self-absorbed that she couldn’t even pretend to be sympathetic to him taking the only chance they’d ever get to see their mom and blah, blah, blah.

            Kana had heard it all before.

            Siegbert stood between Soleil and Shigure, but he didn’t do much of anything besides provide a barrier in case they decided to start throwing elbows and rub at the head of wyvern pendant he had and Kana knew that that meant it was a really bad fight because Siegbert only drew out the pendant when he was  _really_ nervous, but Kana was so tired he couldn't bring himself to care. He pressed his fists against his eyes as Soleil began to shriek. They were so _loud._

The mattress sank beside him and Kana pulled his fists from his eyes and saw Shiro sitting beside him. The older boy reclined against the wall so that his body stretched across the whole width of the bed.

            “How’re you doin’ Kana-roo?” Shiro asked and normally the nickname made Kana smile because it was really similar to the one his mama had given him, but now he just frowned and pouted harder because it was the best way to sum up how he was feeling.

            Shiro sighed.

            “Trust me, I get you. They’ve been going at it for the past hour,” he said.

            Kana glared at the bickering siblings and Siegbert in-between them and he would have kicked them out himself if his mama hadn’t engrained in him that he needed to be a good and gracious host because it was something he was going to have to do a lot once he was older whether he liked it or not so it was best he learned it when he younger instead of older and it had always annoyed him that he had to be nice to people that were mean and said rude things about his mama behind her back but he did it to make her happy and he missed his mama now more than ever because she would be able to tell him how to get Soleil and Shigure to stop fighting because she was so smart and always knew what to say when something was going wrong and everybody always liked her and he was trying so hard to be like she wanted him to be but it was really difficult without her here.

            Shiro jabbed him with his elbow and Kana whirled on him, glaring at Shiro like Jakob did at him since the day he’d been born, but Shiro brandished two links of jerky and shook them in offering.

            Kana didn’t ask where he’d gotten it from. He’d heard Siegbert complain about Shiro’s provisions raiding enough times to know that Shiro often dipped into the mess hall pantry after hours, or sometimes even _during_ hours, to steal snacks. He’d tried to figure out how he did it without getting caught, but he hadn’t been able to.

            Shiro shook the jerky again. Kana took one and bit into the gamy meat. Soon, he’d turned the meat to mush in his belly.

            “Thanks,” Kana said.

            Shiro shrugged. He tucked the other piece of jerky away. He said, “No problem.”

            Shigure was yelling at Soleil again. Something about how he was always wrong no matter what he did or said. Kana wished he hadn’t eaten the jerky so fast. It didn’t settle well in his stomach.

            “How was training?” Shiro asked.

             “It was alright,” Kana said. It wasn’t entirely a lie. It hadn’t been the worst training he’d ever endured. Once, his papa had worked him so hard that he passed out, but that was really his fault because he’d been so determined to keep up and to prove that he wasn’t weak that he hadn’t let it show how much the effort had gotten to him. His mama had been really upset when she’d found out and then he didn’t train with his papa anymore. He had been assigned a special combat tutor, but the tutor smelled like eggs and never let him handle real steel so Kana had skipped every session he could manage and then he’d come here and he hadn’t been trained by anyone for a while until Corrin decided to start.

            “Yeah?” Shiro asked, jabbing a finger into Kana’s arm and, when Kana winced, added, “Corrin didn’t run you ragged this time?”

            Kana rubbed at his aching biceps, but pretended like he had a chill so that it wasn’t super obvious that his arms hurt.

            “Well, maybe a little,” he admitted. 

            Siegbert had joined the argument, but Kana didn’t need to listen closely to know that Siegbert was reminding them that they needed to stay focused so they could save the world and go home. Kana knew Siegbert was scared that, if Soleil and Shigure didn’t make up, Soleil would use the magical orb she’d stolen from her dad that Kana didn’t understand in the slightest to take them all home except Shigure and leave her brother stranded in a past that wasn’t even their own and Kana knew that Siegbert was also scared that one of them would blow their cover, but Kana didn’t know what would really happen if their cover got blown. He just knew it would be really hard to explain because he didn’t even really get it himself and saying that they’d been tagged to save the world by the good part of Anankos and that he’d sent them to the past without any other information beyond that wouldn’t exactly convince anybody.     

            “I’m sure it sucks now, but it’ll be worth it,” Shiro said. “I nearly conked out my first month in the Pit, but then I was throwing guys five times my size over my head without barely lifting a finger.”

            The Pit was what Shiro called the underground fighting ring where he’d made a name for himself as a spear fighter. He only mentioned it in passing and refused to give any more details when Kana pried him for information, but Kana had asked Siegbert about it once and Siegbert had said that, even though he didn’t know the specifics, Shiro had led a really hard and troubled life before the good Anankos had meddled in all their lives and that Kana should stop pushing the subject if Shiro didn’t want to talk about it, but Shiro really didn’t talk about _anything_ from his life and it bothered Kana because he was so curious about the life Shiro led that was so far removed from his own, but, more importantly, he didn’t feel that he could be a very good friend to Shiro when he didn’t know much at all about him, especially when Shiro seemed to know everything about his life.

            All Kana really knew about Shiro was that he was at least a year older than Siegbert, that he was born and raised in a small city along the Hoshidian border that was plagued by revolts, violence, and corruption, which Kana had only known about because sometimes he eavesdropped on his papa’s conversations, that Shiro’s mother had died when he was young and that he often watched her whenever he saw her around the fortress but pretended not to, and that he hated his father because when Kana had asked about his father, Shiro had just shrugged and said, “Didn’t know him. Pops split before I was born. Left my mom to raise me all by herself.”

            And Kana remembered exactly what Shiro had said because it’d formed a little well of sadness down in his belly because Shiro was a really nice guy and it made Kana feel really bad that he’d had to fend for himself for so long. And maybe that was why Shiro hated Siegbert so much because he’d had to fight for himself since he was young while Siegbert had never had to fight for anything, but Kana knew that was wrong. Siegbert had to fight for a lot of things, just not a roof over his head.

            “I’m out of here!” Soleil shouted suddenly, stomping for the door. “C’mon Shiro!”

            Shiro rolled his eyes, but he slunk off the bed, giving Kana a nod in parting, and then followed Soleil out the door. Shigure kicked at the ground as they left. After a moment, he stalked out of the room, heading the opposite direction as Soleil and Shiro. Kana watched him leave and then burrowed beneath his sheets, rolling onto his side to stare at the gray wall beside his bed.

            “How was training?” Siegbert asked. His voice was heavy with exhaustion. Kana didn’t answer. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone anymore. Siegbert sighed.

            Kana’s stomach twinged, but soon sleep came to claim him. He didn’t feel so confused in his dreams.

 

* * *

 

            As Sakura sat amongst her family in the crowded mess hall, there was an unspoken tension. Hinoka and Ryoma glanced at the each other whenever Corrin’s attention shifted from the conversation at the table, asking with their eyes whether they should bring it up or not. Sakura prayed that they wouldn’t. It was the first time they’d all been together in so long.

            _I just want to have a nice meal,_ she thought.

            Beside her, Takumi scarfed down the flavorless gruel they’d been served. He’d barely said two words and the bags underneath his eyes had been etched into his skin, but she was glad he was there.

            Corrin dominated the table conversation, nudging it from questions of Ryoma’s love life with Kagero and the progress of planning the harvest celebration to comments about general goings-on. She spoke with an ease that Sakura didn’t know how to process.

            _But I don’t know how to process anything about Corrin,_ Sakura thought, biting down on the hard piece of bread that had come with the gruel. It crunched against her teeth, but it didn’t break until she’d rent it apart.      

            “How’s your protégé?” Ryoma asked, wresting the conversational reins from the silence that had fallen as Corrin picked at her meal.

            “Oh, he’s great!” Corrin gushed. “He’s learning so fast!”

            Ryoma nodded. Hinoka smiled. Takumi continued to inhale his meal. Sakura said nothing. Silence yawned.

            Sakura watched Jakob peel from the shadows, coming forward to whisper into Corrin’s ear. Her sister fell silent, listening with hooded eyes and grim mouth. Her bowl was fuller than anyone else’s. She’d only eaten the scraps of meat, leaving the broth to stagnate.

            “Excuse me a moment,” Corrin said as Jakob retreated once more. Then, she stood from the table and made her way through the crowd until she’d disappeared from sight. Sakura poked at a bobbing hunk of celery, watching it struggle in the thin muck.

            “You need to ask her about Silas,” Hinoka hissed to Ryoma.

            “Why can’t you do it?” Ryoma demanded.

            Sakura tried to drown out her siblings’ bickering by listening to the clanking of spoons and the low buzz of conversation around her. For a moment, Takumi’s slurping was the loudest sound in the world and then Hinoka cried, “I don’t want to upset her!”

            _Then don’t bring it up!_ Sakura thought. _Just leave her alone._

Sakura was just as worried about Corrin as they were, but she knew that pushing the subject wouldn’t help anything.

            Beside her, Takumi polished off his dinner and set his silverware down with clanging finality.

            “Just leave it be,” he said, wiping broth from his mouth. “I doubt she wants your pity.”

            “It’s not pity, Takumi. It’s concern,” Hinoka said. Then, she turned the curve of her eyebrows into daggers and dropped her voice into an accusation as she said, “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

            Takumi’s mouth sharpened to a point and his glare blazed as he spat, “I _am_ concerned. I just don’t need to shove it down everybody’s throats to prove it.”

            “Well at least I’m _trying,”_ Hinoka asserted and Sakura’s insides turned hard watching Takumi back down until his face was flat and emotionless. “At least I—"

            “Hinoka,” Ryoma warned. Hinoka’s eye flashed, but then she fell silent. The mess hall was ferocious with sound around them. Sakura looked to Takumi, but his gaze was on the opposite wall, refusing to meet her or their siblings’ eyes. His hands were fisted at his sides.

            Sakura stared into the contents of her bowl. She wasn’t hungry anymore, but the gross concoction within was easier to digest than the blank expression on her brother’s face.

            She felt the table bounce and then looked up to see Corrin squeezing back between Ryoma and Hinoka, asking, “What’d I miss?”

            “Nothing of note,” Ryoma said with a stiff shrug.

            None of them brought up Silas and Takumi didn’t speak again. The rest of their meal passed in unease and broken silences.

 

* * *

 

            What had once been something like fall was rapidly turning into winter. A landscape bursting with every shade and hue was lightening, fading into colorless monotony. The trees bore little foliage, their naked limbs bared to the world. The grass had begun to wither. Wildflowers that had bloomed in summer and held strong through fall were dying in droves, graying in the morning frost and disappearing before evening fell.

            Crops had been decimated in a single day when an unexpected cold snap brought freezing rain and smothered sunlight. Sickness spread through the army, ranging from the sniffles to the flu, and cut able forces by nearly a third. Outposts established were severely undermanned and unprepared and had become easy fodder in the cold. The chill had no effect on Anankos’ thralls. With each drop in degree, another foothold in enemy territory fell.            

            Corrin was beginning to lose faith. Every decision she made seemed a greater mistake than the last. She’d begun to rely more heavily on Ryoma and Xander’s expertise, but their suggestions made little difference. No matter what she did, people died. And she was alone in her guilt. If her first tryst with alcohol hadn’t ended in a ravaging headache and a resounding shame, she might have turned to it again.

            Now, having finished her rounds in record time, she sped around the track in the arena, running from the stress and dread that constantly darkened her gaze. Sweat froze on her exposed skin, but she could barely feel its chill from the heat of exertion. In the center of the arena, the bulk of the army worked through their nightly drills under Xander’s watchful eye.

            Once, she had been the one to spearhead the drills, but she’d taken a sabbatical from the physical reigns of the army, handing them off to Ryoma and Xander for the foreseeable future given her ever increasing list of responsibilities. The time she spent now blazing around the track was the only free time she had. Even her meals had become work, flitting from group to group to foster goodwill with each and her dinner with her siblings had been no different. She tried her best, but she was still at the periphery of their lives, an outsider to the familial bonds that had grown strong in her absence. It didn't help that they constantly referenced childhood memories she had no recollection of.

            It had reached a point that, when they asked her if they remembered the funny face Yukimura had made when she'd smashed his glasses or the way their father would toss each of them up into the air when they'd done something to make him especially proud, she only nodded her head and said that she did. 

            As the soldiers began their rigorous activity, she knew that soon they would take to the track and she would be forced from the comfort of pure, physical momentum, and of worry that extended only to the ache in her chest and the strain of moving. And then she would rearrange her ravaged emotions into something presentable to trade pleasantries with Xander before slinking off to the isolation of her room and read and think and fear and plan until Orochi arrived and she had to pretend like she could sleep.

            Not too long ago, before the soldiers had arrived and before the sun had begun its slow descent in the bitter sky, Jakob had trailed beside her, calling for her to slow and cease, but he had since taken his leave, mumbling to himself about stubborn royals and leaving her to run in peace.

            _Good riddance,_ Corrin had thought when he’d finally given up. He had been a horrible nuisance over the past week, pestering her incessantly with questions about her wellbeing and assertions of what would improve her mood. At first, she had appreciated his concern, but it had soon become an unyielding annoyance, especially once it had spread to Felicia and Kaze.

            _They treat me like a child._

Corrin completed another lap and then slowed in her pace. She took the track at a jog, tapping out a gentle rhythm against the ground beneath her boots. She’d gotten used to running in them, though she still forwent them during battle. They encumbered her to the point that her characteristic, fluid stance became awkward and choppy.

            The sun was drawing ever nearer and, as she rounded the final bend, she felt that she could run headlong into it and immolate herself against its molten surface. But she passed beneath it unimpeded and blinking dark splotches from her eyes.            

            She slowed to a halt as she came upon her discarded overcoat lying like a dead animal against the spectator stands. It was stiff and reluctant to resume its form when she plucked it from the ground. Frost had wound its way into the fabric, dampening the soft wool. She brought it against her leg and then a shower of thin droplets dotted the gravel, but the overcoat was no less moist. Corrin sighed.

            The troops began to chant numbers, counting out their progress towards whatever goal had been set for them. She glanced their way as she attempted to wring out her coat. She caught sight of Silas without intending to and her chest constricted.

            His back was to her, but it was impossible to mistake him for anyone else. He paced back and forth before the assembled battalion, barking commands to those that slowed in their drills. The falling sun coated his hair in watery incandescence. Once, the rumor had gone around that he had only been chosen to aide in overseeing drills because he warmed her bed.

            _But they can’t say that anymore,_ Corrin thought as she slung her arms through the frigid coat. It did little to alleviate the chilling weight on her flesh. She buttoned the coat with tense fingers, slipping on the smooth buttons and making the simple task more difficult than it should have been, and then she stuffed her hands into the mittens Jakob had knit for her. He’d knit her a cap to match the ensemble, but she’d lost it soon after he’d given it to her.

            _He still hasn’t let me hear the end of it._

 Corrin braced her hands against each other and then breathed hot air over the clasped wool. She barely felt it through the thick barrier, but it made her feel a little better. As she stood there, attempting to get the blood flowing in her fingers once more, she heard the arena gate open despite the unison counting beside her.

            As she turned to the newcomer, she saw the blur of their moving arm and their shout of, “Head’s up!”

             Something small and round shrieked through the air. It rocketed for the bridge of her nose. In a moment of brutal instinct, she stopped it, but it rebounded from her mittened hand. It bounced twice on the ground before rolling to a stop against the stands.

            She stared at the faded leather ball in stunted recognition of the black marked “C” on its side. Then, she turned to the man who’d thrown it at her.

            “Entertain an old man,” Gunter said, connecting his hands at the heel and splaying his aged fingers into a makeshift catcher’s mitt. Years of tongue lashings had taught her better than to question him so she removed her mitten and then retrieved the ball. She stared down at it for a moment, giving the worn leather a squeeze and remembering all the times she’d spent launching it off the walls in the Northern Fortress. She lobbed it back at him.

            He caught it deftly and then sent it back her way before she could remove her other mitten so she could only skitter out of the way so that it didn’t bruise her ribs. It arced towards the amassed army before slamming into the edge of the track in a cloud of dust. It rolled towards the soldiers, but Corrin sprinted for it, scooping it up before it could dart beneath unsuspecting feet.

            When she’d straightened, she found Xander’s questioning stare on her. Her face burned and she sent her gaze to Silas, but he either hadn’t noticed or was pointedly ignoring her. Squaring her shoulders, she gave Xander a sheepish smile and a curt, two-fingered wave before returning to Gunter with a frown. She didn’t throw the ball back to him.

            “Not in the mood for catch?”  he asked.

            She held up the ball, twisting it so she could observe it from all angles and questioning, “Where’d you get this?”

            “You left it behind the morning you set out for Windmire.”

            The ball grew heavy in her hand. She had been a different person the last time she’d held it. Naïve. Innocent.

            _That morning feels like an entire lifetime ago,_ she thought, but didn’t say. Instead, she tossed the ball to Gunter before it could burn the heart out of her.

            It slammed into his hands with a soft _thwunk_ and remained there as he lowered his hands. The setting sun highlighted the wrinkled fissures in his face so that they writhed in conflicting shadow and light. His grizzled hair was obscured by a simple black cap. Corrin stared at it and thought, _I wonder if Jakob made that for him._

And then she realized why he’d come.

            “Jakob sent you, didn’t he?” she asked, crossing her arms as he made to throw the ball to her again. He stilled in his stance.

            “He made me aware of the situation, yes,” he said. Then, the ball was careening towards her again. She made no move to catch it or to avoid it, refusing to play his game, and it smashed into the meat of her thigh. The impact stung. She didn’t flinch, thankful that it had veered into her good leg. The ball rolled away, but she didn’t look for it. Gunter sighed.

            “Jakob needs to stop meddling,” she said.

            “I agree wholeheartedly,” Gunter said as he came forward and retrieved the ball.

            “Then why’re you here?”

            He ignored her question, priming another pitch and announcing, “This hits your injured leg unless you catch it.”

            The ball ripped through the air. Corrin winced, bracing for the impact, but it zipped past her, missing her by nearly a foot. She laughed in mingled relief and surprise.

            “I thought you’d actually do it,” she said.

            He scowled and admitted, “Old age has made me soft.”

            Footsteps broke from the set rhythm of the drill and Corrin turned as they drew closer. A soldier approached, brandishing the ball like a holy relic. She inclined her head to both of them, Corrin first, then Gunter, and announced, “Lady Corrin, Lord Xander asks that you stop interrupting his drills with your, uh, game of catch.”

            Embarrassment fanned across Corrin’s face. She nodded as she took the ball from the soldier. The soldier made to take her leave, but Gunter bid her to stay a moment longer, commanding, “Tell Xander to stop interrupting my game of catch with his drills.”

            Corrin rolled her eyes. Gunter had always displayed a penchant for taking shots at Xander’s ego for as long as she could remember. Once, she had feared that Gunter was unnecessarily cruel, but she had since learned that he treated everyone with suspicion and aggression.

            _Except for me,_ Corrin thought, but didn’t know what to do with the notion beyond accepting the swell of affection it brought.

            “I… sir?” the solider intoned as her eyes bugged form the pallor of her face. Her mouth was drawn in tight consternation and Corrin feared the woman might faint.

            “He’s joking,” Corrin announced. The woman nodded stiffly and then she was darting back to the block without a second glance.

            “I wasn’t joking,” Gunter said, but, when she looked at him, he didn’t look nearly as gruff as he sounded.           

            Corrin tossed the ball into the air and then caught it. She did it again, liking the sensation of leather smacking against her numbing palm. Then, Gunter cleared his throat.

            “I heard that you are no longer with Silas.”

            It had been three days, but this was the first time her breakup had been brought up so candidly. It didn’t hurt any less. She focused on the motion of tossing the ball up and then the sound of catching it rather than the truth of his words.

“So has the rest of the army,” she said and, though she’d intended for it to be lighthearted, her voice came out without mirth or even the hint of humorous inflection.

            “Gossip travels fast,” he said.

            Toss, _smack._

            “How are you taking it?” he asked.

            _I don’t know._

            But she couldn’t say that. She said, “It’s been a long time coming.”

            It wasn’t entirely a lie. She had felt the end looming above her and Silas for so long that it had nearly been cathartic when it had finally come. For a single, fleeting moment, her breath had been had so full that she had thought her sternum might snap. But then dark reality had set in and she had realized that she was truly alone.  

            “How so?” Gunter asked.

            She sent the ball up to the heavens again and then caught it with a dull _smack_ as she mulled over an answer that wouldn’t wound to give. 

            “I’m too busy for a relationship,” she said at last and it seemed a fitting answer because it didn’t stick to her mouth after she had given it voice.

            “Is that all?”

            _No. It wasn’t even that._

The chill bit into her exposed fingers, stiffening them around the curve of the ball.

_It was just me._

She stammered to say anything else.

            “I… no, but…”

            The setting sun caught the banister behind Gunter’s head as she flicked her wrist to toss the ball up into the air. The sharp light blurred her vision. She caught the ball, but nearly dropped it between loose fingers.

            “It wasn’t anything else,” she managed to say.

            Gunter crossed his arms. He jerked his head towards the spectators’ stands, saying, “Come. Sit with me a moment.”

            She didn’t question him as he climbed the steps. She let her arm dangle, the ball trapped inside tight fingers, as she followed after him. He sat in the bottom row, scooting in so that she had room to sit beside him. She sat and the metal bench jabbed ice into her blood through the thin fabric of her pants.

            “Silas is a nice man,” Gunter began, “but he’s known no hardship. Your struggles are far greater than he can ever hope to understand or soothe.”

            The soldiers took to the track, sending up plumes of dust in their wake. She caught several of them glancing up at her, but they had the decency to look ashamed beneath her stare.

            “That doesn’t exactly make me feel better,” she said.

            Gunter scowled. His stare dropped to the stampede of soldiers below.

            “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

            She looked to the ball in her hand and saw that her fingers had gone pink with cold. She set the ball against the dip formed from the press of her legs together. Then, she began the task of blanketing her freezing hand in the warmth of her mitten. As she shoved her fingers into the woolen confines, Gunter announced, “Let me share this with you then…”

            Corrin crossed her arms, pressing her hands into the warmth within the cave of her armpits. She shared Gunter’s line of sight, but the soldiers had long since thundered past. There was nothing beyond bits of rock. And Xander and Silas, but she didn’t look at either of them.

            “When I was a young man,” Gunter began, “I spent much of my wealth and time pursuing a beautiful priestess—"

            “A priestess?” Corrin interrupted with a smirk. She thought of Jakob and sounded his common refrain of _“Gunter, you old cad!"_ in the ether of her mind.

“I was a much different man in my youth, be glad you did not know me as I was,” he grumbled. Corrin laughed, trying to picture Gunter as a young man, but failing to move past the construction of his face without wrinkles. It seemed wrong to think of him with a face of rubbery bravado rather than sage wisdom. Gunter proceeded with his story.

            “Eventually, after years of pursuit, which I assure you were all very romantic and extremely forbidden, she left the order for me.”

            _Damn,_ she nearly breathed, but knew displeasure would contort Gunter’s mouth at the curse, so amended to question, “And?”

            “And I cared for her desperately, but it wasn’t enough and I owed it to the both of us to end it.”

            She stared up into the inky dusk that trailed in the sun’s wake. She said, “I’m sure she took it well.”

            “Oh, she took it miserably. Threatened to rend my head from my shoulders and leave me infirm so that I could never hurt another woman the way I’d hurt her.”

            Corrin chuckled in mingled surprise and humor.

            “It killed me to leave her, but it had to be done,” Gunter continued. Then, he looked at her in that all-knowing way he had and cleaved through the mask she’d constructed to obscure the raw conflict churning inside, adding, “And, I suspect, even though you were not the one to bring about the end, you might have maintained some inkling of the same towards Silas.”

            Corrin stared into her hands. She hated him for reading her so succinctly, but loved him for it all the same.

            “I’m being foolish, aren’t I?” she said, taking the ball into her hand and squeezing until only a thin sheath of wool separated her fingers from the dingy leather.

            “You’re being human,” Gunter said, gruffly. “And shortsighted perhaps, but never foolish.”

            Corrin released a breath she hadn’t intentionally held and released her death grip on the ball. Something like levity flickered in her chest.

            For a while, the crisp air was devoid of conversation. They sat in silence, both staring out at the activity beneath them. Corrin’s eyes drifted to the gray clouds on the horizon that rushed towards the setting sun.

            _I hope it won’t snow,_ she thought. _The last thing we need is snow._

She continued to watch the encroaching cloud until Gunter announced, “I met my wife soon after I left the priestess.”

            She looked to his face, searching for what to say within the guarded expression, but finding nothing and saying, “You don’t talk about her much.”

            It was an understatement. Gunter never talked about his wife. The plain gold ring he wore was the only evidence that he had ever been married. 

            “No, I don’t.”

            And maybe because he’d shared so much already or maybe because he knew everything about her and she knew nothing about him, Corrin felt emboldened enough to press, “What was she like?”

            Gunter hesitated in answering, but he didn’t retreat like he had in the past when she’d inquired about his life before the Northern Fortress.

            “She was clever,” he began, “cleverer than anyone I’ve ever known and had a silver tongue to rival young Lord Leo’s. She talked circles around me and I never understood a damned thing she said, but I would have died just to hear her speak. I…”

            He paused and looked at her so that she could see her own face, pinched and shiny, reflected in the steel of his eyes.

            “I suspect you two would have gotten along much too well for my liking.”

            Warmth colored Corrin’s face. She smiled, but sobered quickly enough to ask, “What happened to her?”

            Immediately, she knew she’d spoken out of turn. The lines in Gunter’s face deepened and the shadows around his eyes solidified.

            “That’s a tale for another time,” he said quietly, turning away from her. Then, he stood, announcing, “I’ll let you return to your training.”

            Flustered, Corrin extended the ball to him, uneasy from the sudden cessation of their conversation. He paused in his retreat. Gently, he touched his fingers to her own, curling them so that hers held the ball more firmly.

            “Keep it,” he said. “I made it for you.”

            She didn’t thank him. She didn’t know how.

            He gave her no other goodbye as he trundled down the steps, departing swiftly from the arena as soon as his feet hit the ground. She watched his straight-backed form dwindle in the receding daylight until he disappeared beneath the overhang of the stands. Then, she breathed deeply until the winter air chilled her lungs.

            She looked out over the arena, watching the soldiers chug along the track until her eyes grew dry. Blinking, she stood and resolved to begin working through the amassed paperwork that had surely collected on her desk throughout the course of the day. She sent one last glance towards Silas, but found that she had no desire to linger.

            Her skin prickled from unacknowledged attention so she turned and found Xander’s gaze on her. Given the distance between them, she couldn’t make out the minutia of his face, but a tickle of fledgling appeal coursed down her spine, freed from the crushing weight of self-loathing, at least momentarily. She smiled and, for the first time in a long time, there was no tension coiled underneath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, I decided to post this a day early as this upcoming week is poised to kick my ass and it's one less thing for me to worry about.  
> This chapter is rather ambitious in that it tackles several different narrative goals all at once. Honestly, one of the greatest rewards of writing this is pulling all the threads so that they'll all knot together in the end.  
> One thing I've noticed all too often is that moody (aka depressed) teenagers are often written off as lazy or inconsiderate by those around them. I hated making Hinoka the mouthpiece for this, but she seemed the most likely candidate to be incapable or unwilling to understand that Takumi's flakiness and angst stems from someplace darker. That being said, I really enjoy playing with the Hoshidian family dynamics simply because their conflicts are more internal than they are external.  
> Gunter is really one of the most interesting characters in Fates imo. Beyond the botched ending of Revelations (like could they have telegraphed his possession any harder lol?), I always thought his relationship to Corrin was interesting, especially the lengths he went to to protect them given the events that placed them in his care. I always found it odd though that the games seem to imply that the Nohrian royals had a lot more to do with raising Corrin than Gunter did, but maybe that's because I've always thought of them as all being around the same age (with Xander being only a few years older at the most) and increasingly unavailable to even spend time with her. I dunno, I suppose it's never made explicit in the games one way or another but I feel its pretty fair to say the family dynamics are all sorts of fucked up in Fates.


	17. Vicissitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corrin gets an early start. Leo takes a trip to the smithy. Sakura enjoys the hot springs.

            Corrin was up as purple dawn crusted the sky. She lay tangled beneath her covers, curled on her side. Her hair spread out from her head like a corona. Her mouth was dry. The space between her eyes panged. She was alone.

            Little by little, she remembered who and why she was and, as the fragments began to knit together, the ache from waking up burrowed into the bulk of her thighs and the juncture of her neck. She locked her hands against the smooth curve of her neck, pressing the tips of her fingers into the dull thrumming beneath her skin. It persisted nonetheless.  

            She glared through the receding dark to the window on the other side of her bedroom. In her exhaustion the night before, she had failed to draw the curtains. Creeping sunlight now illuminated the dusty corners of her bedroom and abated her slumber.

            Her sleep had been black and dreamless. She longed to fall back into it, but it refused her with slow deliberation. She gave up. She watched the blooming sun cast the branches outside her window in shifting shadow. There were no birds to flutter amongst the barren limbs. Winter had driven them away.

            Soon, the sunrise lost her interest. She looked to the empty armchair in the corner instead, thinking nebulous thoughts of Orochi.

            _“I can’t keep giving up sleep,”_ the diviner had said, lying in the antiseptic white of the infirmary. _“It’ll kill me.”_

Orochi’s rasping words still ringing in her head, Corrin stared at the solemn armchair and thought, _I hope she’s okay. I hope they all are._

The battle the day prior had been disastrous in every sense of the word. The icy earth had run warm with blood and viscera. The infirmary had been full in its aftermath.

            _Hopefully, it still is,_ she thought, drawing her hands from her neck and rolling onto her back.

            The ceiling yawned above her, filling her head with thoughts of falling. She draped an arm over her eyes, burying them beneath the crook of her elbow. She told herself, _Don’t think about it._

But she did.

            She thought of howling wind that screamed in warning. She thought of freezing rain that pelted her eyes and meshed her muscles tight. She thought of corpses that wailed and bodies that stank and magic that seared and ground that split and screams that echoed.

            She thought of Arete, silken haired and bleeding hatred, atop a bareboned steed, commanding the thralls to steal life from the living, and of Takumi, pale-faced and stiff backed, taking aim with hands tempered to kill, and of Felicia, wind burnt and living fury, shrieking into the maelstrom, and of Xander, soaked and steady-handed, blazing through the undead, and of Azura, her voice like a broadsword, singing to stop the rain.

            Corrin forced herself to think of not thinking. She dropped her arm to her chest and watched daylight encroach. She did not think of the growing tally of the dead or all the lost progress or the dread that sapped her optimism and her appetite. She could feel nothing but the throb in her marrow and the weight of her heart.

            She laid awake until the door scooched open and Felicia’s lilting voice said, “Ah, you’re already up.”

            Tinkling glass and the smell of breakfast brought her upright. She bent her legs beneath her and then she reached for the hairbrush on the nightstand, working it through her tangled tresses as Felicia finished readying breakfast.

            “Did you sleep alright?” Felicia intoned. Her voice rasped. Purple splotches marred the soft cream of her jaw.

            _Yesterday left marks on all of us,_ Corrin thought as she announced, “Better than I expected.”

            Her arm ached as she continued to draw the brush through the long length of her curls.

            “That’s good,” Felicia said, quietly. Corrin watched her pour the tea and add a heaping lump of sugar into the cup once it sat steaming.

            “Best bundle up today,” Felicia announced, fiddling with a napkin until it lay perfectly perpendicular to the edge of the table. “It’s going to snow.”

            Then, she bowed to Corrin and left. The world was silent in her wake. Corrin sighed. She returned the hairbrush to its place on the nightstand and steeled herself to eat a meal she had no appetite for.

            Outside, the sun continued to shine, but clouds darkened the horizon.

 

* * *

 

          Standing amid the furnaces and fumes of the smithy, Leo had no trouble recalling why he relied on Odin to deal with the blacksmith when his armor was in need of repairing. The scent of molten metal gave him an awful, sweltering headache.

            He stood over the dagger display, poking his finger against the point of each to distract the pain behind his brow. Sweat dotted his collar and pooled beneath his armpits so that the tang of body odor encased him like a bubble. He drew a hand through his slick hair and thought, not for the first time in his life, _I’m going to kill Camilla._

He glared at her now as she stood with her back to him, amidst an array of battles axes. She played at evaluating each of them, taking them into her grasp and tilting them from side to side, but he could see the way her head snapped from the polished steel to Corrin and Xander who stood aside the blacksmith and chatted amicably about alloys or torque or whatever it was that had drawn them there in the first place.

            A tug on his sleeve tore his gaze from Camilla to his side. Elise frowned up at him. She whined, “How much longer?”

            “Ask Camilla,” he snapped. “I don’t want to be here anymore than you do.”

            Elise scowled and then returned to leaning against the wall and toying with her ponytails. Leo returned to his glowering. It made no sense for any of them to be there, save for Corrin and Xander, but Camilla had insisted they all go.

            _“Bonding time!”_ she’d chirped when he’d questioned her intentions at lunch. Then, she’d smashed his foot beneath the heel of her boot under the table when he’d refused. His foot still smarted.

            _And I didn’t even get to finish my lunch,_ he thought with a grimace as his stomach growled. Leo glared at the back of Camilla’s head like his ire could make it pop open to reveal her true intentions hidden within the gray matter.

His older sister had been perfectly placid and pleasant throughout the entirety of their joint lunch, but an announcement of leave from Corrin, and Xander’s request to join her, had turned Camilla glacial.

            _She’s playing at something,_ Leo thought, watching Camilla watch Xander and Corrin. _I just don’t know whether it stems from her possessiveness of Xander or her protectiveness of Corrin._

Across the room, Corrin laughed and he wondered what could possibly be so funny about armor and steel as he watched Camilla’s hands strain bloodless around an axe she’d drawn from the display.

            “Camilla,” Elise groaned, drawing the “ah” long so that it resonated against all the untouched metal. Camilla whipped around, brandishing the battle axe like she intended to strike. Leo clenched his jaw as Elise flinched away.

            “Isn’t this fun?” Camilla said, loosening her grip and forcing a stiff smile.

            Elise’s face wrinkled as she crossed her arms and cried, “No! It isn’t! It’s the opposite of fun! You promised you’d take me to the hot springs after lunch! Not here!”

            “Well, darling, plans change,” Camilla said, shelving the axe. “And I promise we’ll go right after this.”

            “But why can’t we go now?” Elise demanded. “You’re not even doing anything and I hate it here and Leo’s _melting!”_

Leo’s vertebrae cinched together as a blush crept through the scarlet wilds already populating his face. His swiped at his forehead. His fingers came away with a thin sheen of oily shine.

            “Yeah, what’s your problem, Camilla?” Leo demanded, dragging his sleeve across the wetlands of his brow.

            She rolled her eyes and tossed her hair in the way that conveyed to him that he was less than the dirt under her feet. Then, she was moving, crossing the room in three long strides, and coming to stand beside him. Her terra cotta eyes were hollow with disdain.

            When he’d been a child, he’d stood far shorter than her and she’d taken to bending down and flicking him in the bulge of his forehead whenever he annoyed her. Now, he stood several inches above her, but her boiling annoyance lopped off his advantage. The bravado in his stomach turned thin and watery. He backed down, imagining her clawed finger thumping against the bony ridge of his nose.

            Camilla hmphed and then turned her sights to Elise, announcing, “We’ll leave as soon as Corrin and Xander are finished.”

            “But—” Elise protested but Camilla cut her off, humming, “No more buts. Only bonding.”

            Elise kicked at the ground and muttered, “More like babysitting.”

            Leo arched a brow at Camilla, but she stared into the gleaming daggers on the table before her. He looked to Elise, but she didn’t pay any attention to him. She seemed like she was trying to burn holes in Camilla’s back with her stare.

            The bell above the door of the smithy rang out and Leo turned just in time to see copper skin and a shock of white hair. He jerked away from the newcomer, thinking, _I need to hide._

When no immediate camouflage presented itself, he staggered back until the edge of a table bit into the meat of his thigh. His impact knocked the table’s contents free and they spilled across the floor in a symphony of clanging metal. Each crash brought a twitch to his eye until there was nothing left to fall. He thought only, _Shit._  

            Everyone’s eyes had turned to him and he saw that he had prescribed the wrong identity to the newcomer. He had never seen the man before.

            “Uh, whoops,” he said lamely under the fever of attention.

            Then, he fell to his knees and began to collect the pieces of the display, which he discovered had been an assortment of gauntlets. As he stretched and groped for each displaced item, he thought, _I can’t keep hiding from this._

But he’d spent the better half of a month hiding from it, ducking behind trees and running in opposite directions whenever the situation presented itself. The battle yesterday had made proved a challenge, but he’d gotten through it without so much as a word of greeting with the guilty party.

            He hadn’t told anyone of it because he didn’t even know how to explain it to himself, let alone anyone else. Not even Odin knew, though he’d only been a few feet away when it had happened. When Niles, who’d drank so much he stumbled sitting down, had lurched across the table beneath the sputtering light of the tavern and kissed him. It had been sloppy and wet and over in seconds, but it had also been soft and flavored like honeyed whiskey and made his head spin even as he’d fled from the scene.

            Even now, as Leo emerged from the underbelly of the table, it made his head spin. There had always been an undercurrent of _something_ but he’d never considered it to be anything more than a fantasy of his affection starved mind. By the light of day, he was terrified of it, fearing far more than the complications that came with an entanglement with a retainer, but, by the dark of night, he did nothing but replay it in his mind’s eye and worry that it was too late for it to be anything more than a shared embarrassment between them.

            Leo transferred the heaping pile of gauntlets from his arms to the table and began to rearrange them into a presentable fashion. As he struggled to pair up matching sets, Camilla tsked, “I can’t take you anywhere.”

            “I didn’t want to be here in the first place,” he hissed, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care and didn’t comment on his tone.

            “Those two don’t go together,” Elise chirped from her position on the wall, referring to the two gauntlets he held in his hands.

            “Why not?” he demanded, shaking them at her. They looked identical down to the design hammered into the band around the wrist.  

            She scoffed and peeled from the wall. Then, she bumped him with her hip and commanded, “Scooch!”

            Elise took the gauntlets he held, made space for them on the crowded table, lay them down, and then stared at the amassed collection of glistening metal. He grumbled at her, but moved onto finding another pair rather than challenging her.

            “Aha!” she cried.

            She plunged her hand into the pile and then emerged with a gauntlet that looked no different than any of the others. Leo rolled his eyes at her zeal.

            “Ah, finally finished?” Camilla intoned.

            “Does it look like I’m finished?” Leo snapped, struggling to find the pair to the gauntlet he currently held. Elise handed him the match as Camilla said, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

            Leo turned and saw that his brother had joined them while his focus had been glued to reassembling the display. Corrin still stood at the front of the shop. She leaned over the counter, looking to the back of the smithy.

            “Yes,” Xander said, answering Camilla’s original question, “But he wanted Corrin to see the baby.”

            A woman appeared from behind shifting curtains that barred the rest of the smithy from view with a gurgling baby on her hip.

            “Oh, he’s beautiful,” Leo heard Corrin exclaim as he thought, _Who the hell brings a baby into a smithy?_

Camilla seemed to have a similar thought as she observed, “That baby has no business being in a place like this.”

            Her voice was soft from the muttered tone she always took whenever she intended her words be heard by Xander alone. Leo had always found the behavior ridiculous and pointlessly exclusionist, especially when he was standing within earshot, but Camilla had always been in the business of excluding him, even in simple conversations. Though he’d grown accustomed, it still stung when Xander responded in kind, dropping his voice and saying, “That baby’s only here because Corrin’s here.”

            “Corrin’s in a lot of places. They shouldn’t have brought him in here. It’s completely reckless and stupid,” Camilla said.

            Leo began to pick at the tiny ridges of scabbed flesh around the tip of his thumb. Then, he brought his thumb to his mouth and substituted his stubby, unsuccessful nails for his teeth.

            “Be nice,” Xander warned.

            Leo’s mind churned with annoyance. Desperately, he wanted to interject in their conversation and demonstrate how stupid it was that they’d sought only each other’s voices, but he knew Camilla would anger and accuse him of eavesdropping.

“All done,” Elise announced. Leo turned to find that the display lay perfectly assembled. In his irritation, he’d nearly forgotten all about it.

            “You’re welcome,” Elise said, an edge to her voice and her mouth.

            “Thank you,” Leo conceded without a hint of sincerity.

            Elise scrunched her lips at him, mocking his response, and he thought, _Brat._

            Camilla and Xander still conversed in low tones, but he ignored the drone of their voices in favor of his own thoughts.

            _They just want me to feel left out,_ he thought scornfully, but he knew that wasn’t entirely true. Camilla and Xander had always been close and, whether because there was hardly a year to separate them, the sympathetic trauma of being their father’s favorite and least favorite, or both, they’d always been nearly inseparable after Elise had been born and the concubine wars had drawn to a finish. And he resented their closeness nearly as much as he envied it.

            “Whose baby is that?” Elise asked as, across the room, Corrin wiggled her fingers at the infant and it squealed in excitement.

            “The blacksmith’s,” Leo said before Camilla or Xander got the chance to. “He wanted Corrin to meet the baby.”

            The weight of Camilla’s distaste wrinkled his mouth, but he didn’t give her the satisfaction of anything more.

            “Okay, but why?” Elise asked. “I’ve never even heard Corrin talk about the blacksmith or his baby before.”

            _There’s a lot of things you don’t know about Corrin,_ Leo thought, but the superiority that had produced the thought withered as he realized that there were a great many things that he didn’t know about Corrin either.

            _I’m only privy to the things that go horribly wrong._

And, now that he thought about it, he didn’t think that boded well for his friendship with Corrin.

            “Corrin’s forged strong bonds with many of the craftsmen,” Xander explained to Elise. “Her blessing carries great merit among them.”

            Elise nodded and muttered, “Ah, I see.”

            Then, there was only the sound of Corrin entertaining the baby and the gentle clacking of the man Leo had mistaken for Niles examining the helmets laid out nearby.

            As Leo watched Corrin fawn over the baby, he thought of the time he and Xander had accompanied Elise on a trip to Cassita’s and their covers had been blown and they’d found themselves amid a mewling throng of poverty-stricken civilians hoisting their pox ridden babies up for Xander to bless and Xander had almost dropped every single one.  

            _Father was furious,_ Leo remembered, but even the memory of the back of his father’s hand didn’t strike the humor from his thoughts. He turned to Xander, intentions to reminisce on his tongue, but found his words trapped in the dark of his throat at the sight of his brother’s face.

            His brother looked uncharacteristically young. His eyes bled soft emotion. His mouth hinted at a smile. Leo followed his brother’s line of sight and his stomach twisted when he came to its focus, Corrin laughing at the burbling baby.

            He reexamined the look of his brother’s face and saw that it was hope and longing and sincere and blistering.

            _And that’s why Camilla’s been acting like she has,_ Leo realized.

            He stared at the ardent emotion splayed across the planes of Xander’s face a moment longer and then thought, _Shit._

Maybe, in another world, his brother and Corrin might have been perfectly matched, but the war had made them too embittered and too volatile for anything between them to ever be more than a fervent mistake that would strangle all of them in its wake. He certainly couldn’t forget all the war councils that had become nothing more than contests of aggression between the two. He didn’t know how his brother could.

            Leo’s mouth drooped into a scowl just as Camilla announced, “That’s a bad idea,”

            She hadn’t lowered her voice.

            _She wants us all to hear,_ Leo thought as he watched the smitten expression evaporate from his brother’s face.

            “What is?” Xander asked.

            Across the shop, the baby had been transferred to Corrin’s arms where it began to squall and fuss. Corrin winced at its scrunched face and cradled it to her chest, bouncing it gently, but its cries didn’t fade. Leo watched her coo at the little gremlin and wondered how she could stand it. The smell of babies, so much like linen crusted with aged vomit, had always made him queasy.  

            “You and Corrin,” Camilla stated.

            Her tone was aloof, but she spit the “and” like a curse. Leo’s fists were tight in agreement. He’d never been on Camilla’s side before. It was a strange feeling to appreciate her callous tone.

            Xander was nonplussed, saying, “I have no idea what it is you’re talking about.”

            _Doubtful,_ Leo thought.

            The dissonance of the shrieking baby quieted as it was returned to its mother. Corrin gnawed on her lip as the baby’s mother soothed it, but Leo’s concern was arrested by Camilla’s proclamation of, “Yes, you do. She just ended things with Silas, who’s one of your best friends I might remind you, and you’re like a brother to her…”

            _Ouch,_ Leo thought with a wince as he returned to picking at his thumb.

            With each word, Camilla’s voice had gained volume and direction until she’d hit the stride of her delivery, saying, “And besides, the best-case scenario is that you remain together until the end of the war and then you’ll have to break—” 

            “I get it, Camilla,” Xander interrupted. His voice was exasperated, but Leo could hear an inkling of resignation underneath.

            Camilla shrugged, but she didn’t hide her delight well. Her lips were quirked and her eyes brightened. Leo began to bite at his thumb again as Elise piped up, “You shouldn’t be so mean, Camilla! I think it’s sweet and I don’t get why you don’t either!”

            Leo rolled his eyes at Elise but then, his teeth tore too thick a strip of flesh from his thumb. Blood welled in the raw wound. He popped his thumb into his mouth and sucked at the injury.

            “I’m not being mean,” Camilla argued. “There’s just a lot you don’t understand, Elise.”

            _Uh oh,_ Leo thought as Elise’s clear face grew stormy. His thumb throbbed.

            “I’m not stupid! I know what’s happening!” Elise protested.

            Across the room, Corrin hugged the woman and, though he couldn’t hear her over his sisters’ argument, he could see her lips move around, _“I’ll see you soon.”_

“Uh, guys?” Leo voiced, but they ignored him.

            Elise continued, “If Xander really loves—”

            “Don’t be foolish,” Camilla interrupted, her tone bracing. “It’s nothing like that.”

            Corrin bid her goodbyes to the blacksmith, touching his shoulder and, presumably, wishing him goodwill. Leo turned to Xander, but the only horror he saw was directed towards Camilla and Elise’s argument, not the impending danger of Corrin’s approach. His brother had been mortified into silence and stillness.

            _What do I even care?_ Leo thought. _Let her hear._

But he cared because he knew exactly how excruciatingly awkward it would be to observe that particular falling out. It was awkward enough already, but it was a familiar awkwardness as Camilla made a habit out of sharing each of their secrets with the others. He would never forgive her for telling Xander and Elise about his unfortunate swim in the courtyard fountain after an ill attempt at wooing a visiting dignitary four years prior.

            “How would you even know? Have you even asked him about it or are you just deciding you know what’s best like always?” Elise demanded.

            “Guys,” Leo tried again, but no one was listening. His thumb had stopped bleeding. He chewed on the nail instead.  

            “This isn’t one of your storybooks, Elise!” Camilla shouted. “Things don’t work out just because you want them to!”

            Corrin had crossed from behind the counter. She walked towards them. Leo saw the concern tingeing her expression and his stomach flipped.  

            “Gods, can we please stop talking about this?” Xander implored with a groan at the exact moment Corrin crossed into earshot.

            She smiled as she asked, “Stop talking about what?”

            Leo moved to a new fingernail to chew as he watched Xander flinch at the sound of her voice.

            _I tried to warn you._

Then, as he watched the color drain from Xander’s face, Leo thought, _Welcome to my life of constant, unrelenting embarrassment._

            “Xander—” Elise began, but Camilla laid her hands on Elise’s shoulders and squeezed tight, supplying with saccharine cheer, “Said he didn’t care if you skipped training to go to the hot springs with Elise and me, isn’t that wonderful?”

            “He did?” Corrin intoned, but Leo’s stare was on Elise as she jerked free of Camilla’s grasp and stormed out.

            Leo watched the winter wind whip through her hair as she threw open the door. Then, she was gone.

            “Is she okay?” Corrin asked, taking a step to follow after her.

            Camilla touched her fingers to her temple with a sigh, saying, “Just let her go. She’s getting angsty with puberty.”

            But Leo was already moving, breaking for the door when no one else would. When he stood outside the smithy, Elise had already made it halfway down the path towards the fortress. Her dainty footprints tracked her path through the fresh snow that continued to fall all around him.

            The cold stole the moisture from his eyes and burned his throat as he shouted, “Elise! Cam down! It’s not worth getting this upset over!”

            She fell still in her run, turning to him. From so far away, he couldn’t tell if her face was red from the sudden cold or from anger.  

            “I just want Xander to be happy, Leo!” she shouted through the falling snow. “He’s so miserable all the time and it’s just not fair and I hate it!”

            “We’re all miserable,” he yelled back as he traversed the slush between them. When, finally, he stood before her, he saw that her tears were frozen fast to her fast.

            “I know that and I try to make everyone less miserable, but I can’t do much of anything!” she said.

            Her voice was so thin and so broken that he thought, suddenly, of the moment he’d been permitted to hold her for the first time, a few weeks after she’d been born, and he’d promised himself that he’d protect her from all the bad things that happened around them.

            _But she’s been trying to protect us,_ he thought. His heart wrenched.

            Elise continued, “But I know that Xander and Corrin would be happy together and I just wish Camilla wasn’t such a jerk about it!”

            The snow had begun to turn her eyelashes white and dusted her face with melting crystalline flakes. Beneath the snow, her cheeks and nose were cherry red.

            “It’s just not rational, Elise,” Leo huffed.

            “Well, love _isn’t_ rational, Leo!” Elise shouted above the shrieking wind. “Maybe if you knew that you wouldn’t be so lonely and unhappy!”

            The retort he had died between his snapping teeth as he slammed his mouth shut. The cold wailed inside him, breezing through his thick clothes like they were nothing but tattered scraps. The snow that coated his hair had turned to ice, seeping into his skull and stabbing at the soft tissue encased within.

            He looked at Elise, but he didn’t see the baby sister he loved so dearly. He saw only naivety and delusion and stupidity.

            “Maybe if you bothered to do anything beyond reading those silly little books of yours, you wouldn’t be such a moron,” he snapped, lashing out in the only way he knew how.  

            She backed off, staring at him with eyes like a wounded animal, and distinct, sharp remorse shredded through the soft of his belly.        

            But she didn’t permit him an apology. She stumbled away and the pouring snow hid her features so that she seemed more a stranger than his sister.

            “You may be a genius, Leo, but you’re as dumb as a rock when it comes to having a heart!” she screamed at him.

            As she ran from him, he was glad the snow had muffled her voice. Otherwise, it might have shorn his heart clear from his chest.

 

* * *

 

            As winter bled through the patched stained-glass overhead and cast rays of gentle blue and drowned green down on the hot springs, Sakura sank beneath the steaming waters. She let herself fall until she’d vanished beneath the waterline. Her hair floated around her head like a lily pad. She didn’t bare her eyes to the heat, but saw by feeling, reaching out into the endless expanse and gripping at the still water.

            The conversations that crested above the water were nothing more than slithering echoes underwater. She listened and the siren songs soothed her anxious mind.

            Her lungs began to burn, but she waited to rise. She remained submerged until her ribs began to jab at the soft swell of her quivering lungs. She emerged with a greedy yawn. The crisp air stung at her pink of her tongue and the flush of her cheeks.

            “That’s so bad for you,” Hana said after the water had drained from Sakura’s ears.

            The other girl sat along the edge of the springs, dragging her fingertips in lazy circles through the still waters.

            “It feels nice,” Sakura said.

            A single kick propelled her to Hana’s side where she took up residence beside the other girl and reclined in similar fashion. As she watched the snow dust the glass overhead, her eyelids grew heavy and the warmth nestled into the exhaustion in her small body. She hadn’t slept much the night before as she’d been held up in the infirmary, tending to all the injured from the battle.

            From the state of things when she’d left, everyone seemed to be on the verge of recovery. The battle had been bloody and horrible, but it hadn’t been fatal.

            _Luck was on our side,_ Sakura thought. Then, she considered the outcomes of many of the past battles, and amended, _Luck’s been on our side._

Outposts and territory had been lost, but Anankos had only claimed a few lives. Sakura knew full well as working in the infirmary had become a full-time job. With so many injured and so few healers, Sakura had begun working from sun up to sun down, often skipping meals to keep up with the influx of patients.

            Her time off was spent in the hot springs, letting the steam melt the tension from her shoulders. Often, she and Hana were the only two occupants while everyone else was too busy preparing for the next battle, but today they’d arrived to find the hot springs crowded. Sakura suspected that the snow had driven them to the warm waters, but Hana had protested that the trying battle the day prior had been their impetus.            

            From the opposite side of the pool, Camilla’s chittering laughter sounded. It echoed off the glass roof and popped Sakura’s carefully cultivated calm. Glowering, she looked to Corrin, sitting beside Camilla, hoping to find similar disgruntlement, but Corrin laughed along with the other woman.

            Sakura sank deeper into the water and thought, _How can Corrin stand to be around her?_

“Gods, could they laugh any louder?” Hana mumbled.

            _Yes,_ Sakura thought, but didn’t say. She watched Corrin and Camilla laugh together a moment longer and then tore her eyes away. The ease in her chest had crumbled.

            _She never laughs like that with us._ _She never even looks like she’s having fun._

There was a knot of resentment growing in Sakura’s stomach, made from the twisting strands of every slight and offense Corrin had perpetrated against them. Then, the heat wormed back into her flesh and dissolved the lump of animosity crushing her windpipe.

            She brushed her leg through the water and watched the surface dimple in its wake. She thought, _The long days are making me bitter._

But there was something, something jagged and dense, burning behind her heart that whispered, _“Corrin doesn’t care about you.”_

But it was so vehement and angry that Sakura buried the thought deep within the annals of her mind. She lay back against the edge of the pool and prayed for the waters to wash the hatred from her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter really did not want to be written lol. It took me several rewrites and a complete change in pace and tone in the Leo section to get what you see now (and I'm still not really sure how I feel about it because I'm worried parts of it fall into the same cliches that the original fic did but I think its alright). The following chapters are going about just as well lol. I'm only a few chapters ahead in writing and I'm losing motivation fast. I guess i'm just getting to that point again where my steam is evaporating faster than I can utilize it. I really enjoy writing this, but, sometimes, I worry about the amount of time I sink into it, especially when I've got other fic ideas scrambling around in my brain and personal responsibilities to attend to.  
> As always, I hope y'all enjoy and lemme know what you think! Until next time! <3


	18. Harvest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura prepares for a party. Kana sneaks out. Corrin enjoys the celebration.

            Daylight died behind a sky of swollen gray as Sakura sat on the hard floor of Corrin’s bedroom. As night crept closer, she watched flurries of snow rip through the air on screeching flumes of wind with her back pressed hard against the frame of Corrin’s bed. Hinoka’s legs dangled beside her, bumping her every so often as her sister shifted on the mattress above her. A few moments prior, Hinoka had seized a chunk of Sakura’s hair and pinned it back with a hefty clip that bit into her scalp.

            But Sakura didn’t even consider removing it, not with Camilla and Elise squawking over Corrin across from her.

            The Nohrian sisters had spent the past half hour attempting to corral her sister into a dress, but seemed to have finally moved past the unsuccessful notion. Now, they bickered over how best to tame Corrin’s unruly curls. As they debated the respective advantages of an updo versus a braid, Sakura watched her sister’s eyelids sag and her head bob like a fishing lure.  

            Corrin’s sleepiness drew Sakura’s mouth long and she was quick to hide the yawn behind the flat of her hand. She hadn’t slept well the previous night for she had seen the death of the undying and smelled its curdled flesh. And, even now, amid the warmth and the light of her sister’s bedroom, dread nestled into the nape of her neck and poured icy sludge into her veins.

            _The battle had been short, an ambush on the last outpost in the twilight of the day before had ended in a mess of sloughing rot and vaporizing sinew. One moment, Anankos’ thralls had been an unstoppable tide of death. The next, they lay in dusty piles on the ground that dispersed in the moaning wind._

_Then, there came the hooting call from within the post; “Arete’s dead! For good this time!”_

_And Sakura had run into the building in her sister’s wake to the sound of booming cheers until the body lay stiff before her. The doors slammed shut behind her. The joy beyond them was choked into silence._

_“Who killed her?” Corrin demanded of the soldiers that stood pressed against the walls as Sakura approached the body._

            _In death, Arete looked like a swimmer frozen mid-stroke. Her legs bent at the knee, poised for kicks that she would never be able to deliver. Her satin hair formed a veil across the sliver of her face that longed for the sun. The floor around her was so black with blood, blacker than it should have been, that it reflected the shimmering light above. Her right arm stretched long past her head, reaching for something unseen. The tip of her index was stained black. Beside her stiffening finger, the tile was marred by scratches of congealing blood._

_Sakura moved to the dead woman’s side and saw immediately the wound that had ended her second life. The weeping slash stretched from throat to navel, baring bone and viscera to the open air. The putrefying, boiling scent of it was worst of all._

_Sakura stared a moment more. She tried to imagine the arc a blade would have to travel to emblazon such a blow, but she couldn’t. It seemed too perfect. She continued to orbit, stopping only when she came to the markings Arete had made on the floor. Acid fear coated her tongue. One of the soldiers finally spoke._

_“No one killed her,” they said. “She disemboweled herself.”_

_Gooseflesh rose on her arms. Shivers rocked her posture. She stared at the three letters beside Arete’s bent finger._

_With blood blacker than sin, Arete had written, **Run.**_

Sakura knew that Corrin hadn’t disseminated Arete’s message throughout the ranks. There hadn’t been time and the war council had been forgone in favor of the harvest celebration that night.

            _And Corrin **said** she didn’t want to derail the party, _Sakura thought, staring at her sister’s bowed head.

            Silver streamers of curls hung down around Corrin’s face and, as they flickered from each of Corrin’s soft exhales, frustration clamped around Sakura’s throat. Her anger oozed out into the curve of her mouth as she thought, _This whole thing is so stupid. What does one party matter if we’re all dead tomorrow?_

But Corrin seemed to have it set in her mind that the celebration needed to happen. Just like she seemed to think that Hinoka and Sakura needed to be friends with Camilla and Elise.

            _Why else would she make us all suffer each other?_ Sakura thought, remembering how her sister had practically begged her and Hinoka to get ready in her room alongside Camilla and Elise. Except, she and Hinoka hadn’t needed to do any sort of getting ready beyond changing from their respective medical garb and training leathers into more casual attire while Camilla and Elise had wasted an entire hour applying their makeup.

            For a bit, Corrin had sat beside Hinoka and they had laughed about Setsuna’s latest blunder while Sakura had listened with mild bemusement, but that had been before the Nohrians had accosted Corrin with lipstick and perfume.

            _And she went willingly,_ Sakura thought as she watched her sister’s red tinged lips part around a snore.

            “Oh, Corrin! We’ve bored you to sleep!” Camilla trilled and Sakura watched Corrin jerk awake with a rasping breath.

            “Huh?” Corrin intoned.

            Then, she disappeared from Sakura’s view as Camilla pounced, exclaiming, “Elise and I have come up with just the thing for your hair! It’s all the rage at court right now!”

            And Sakura scowled as Elise joined in, pulling Corrin’s silver curls long like taffy and parroting Camilla by saying, “Yeah, anybody who’s anybody wears their hair like this!”

            Hinoka grumbled, but Sakura couldn’t hear her clearly through the commotion of Camilla and Elise singing the praises of the Nohrian court and of Corrin’s absolute silence on the subject.

            _She should be styling it like a Hoshidian,_ Sakura thought, but the more she tried to picture what that would look like, she found that she couldn’t. She had never bothered with fashion trends. There had been more important things to do than trifle with what was in vogue and what wasn’t.

            “Tada!” Elise cheered as she and Camilla stepped away to admire their work.

            Sakura leaned harder into the bedframe. She didn’t wince at the crack of pain that erupted from the contact. She stared at her sister’s painted face and intricate hairstyle and felt a rock drop into the pit of her belly. She thought, _If Corrin wants to be Nohrian so bad, she never should have bothered to leave._

But, when Corrin asked how she looked, Sakura said nothing, letting Hinoka do all the talking for the both of them. She knew that the poison populating her thoughts would help nothing, but hurt everything. And, maybe, there was a dark part of her soul that burned to hurt and to wound. It was feeble and weak now, but it was growing stronger.

 

* * *

 

            Kana had never seen snow fall before he’d come to the past. He’d seen snow oodles of times before when his mama went with Felicia to the ice tribe and took him along with them, but it hadn’t fallen while he was there, only laid on the ground, and it had been so bitter and cold there that he didn’t understand why the ice tribe just didn’t move somewhere nicer, but, now, watching the snowflakes shimmer through the air, he thought he understood a little.

            Nothing moved around him as he made his way across the white terrain. It was cold, but he’d been sure to bundle up before heading out into the night, wearing a knit cap he’d found one night while treasure hunting, a scarf he’d borrowed from Shigure’s trunk, a puffy coat Corrin had gotten for him, two pairs of gloves, and three pairs of socks. He knew he probably looked like an oversized marshmallow, but he was warm and that was all that really mattered. He hated being cold more than anything because being cold made him sleepy and cranky and him being sleepy and cranky made everybody else mad and everybody else being mad made him upset and it always spiraled further down until the day was over and he went to bed.

            But he hadn’t thought his layering through because he had finally come to the doors of the tavern and he saw that nobody inside was wearing their coats or scarves. As he entered, he hastily shed his many layers and left them in a limp huddle by the door. He was sure to pull the ribbon-tied wad of tissue from the coat pocket before he ventured farther because otherwise he was risking Siegbert getting very cross with him for nothing because Siegbert had told him he wasn’t to go to the harvest party that night because it would be loud and rowdy and full of mean people but Kana had overhead Siegbert telling Shigure that the real reason he didn’t want him there was because there was no way to how Corrin would behave and Kana had already been so upset by her dating Silas and what if she decided to pursue someone equally as upsetting and Kana had a meltdown in the middle of the tavern and blew their cover?

            And Kana had been really angry to hear Siegbert’s real reasoning because of course he didn’t trust him! He never had! Siegbert always treated him like a big dumb baby that was only good for crying and revealing secrets even though that was only one time and how was he supposed to know that Siegbert would get in trouble for kissing one of the maids-in-training behind the big statue of the soldier in the courtyard? But Kana had known better than to challenge Siegbert outright so he’d waited for him and Shigure to fall asleep and then he’d snuck out and made his way to the tavern and now he was here, but he didn’t see Corrin anywhere!

            He was so short that he could really only see knees and elbows as he made his way through the dense crowd. There was music playing that he didn’t recognize, but he liked it a lot because it was fast and fun and it was nothing like the boring waltzes they always played at the fancy schmancy galas his mama always made him go to even though he begged her to let him stay home because everyone always acted like they hated him and they always said really mean things about his mama when she wasn’t listening and once he’d got so mad at a mean comment an wrinkly old duchess had made that he’d kicked her in the shin and his mama had been so upset with him for kicking her but his papa had laughed and told him that it was never nice to kick people, but at least he’d picked the right person to kick.

            Now, Kana wandered aimlessly though the crowd, looking for a flash of hair silver enough to match his. But there were too many people and they all didn’t notice him until they’d bumped into him and he tried to listen for Corrin’s voice, but there was too much noise for his sensitive ears to pick up on a snippet of laugher and his eyes were starting to grow sore and his head was beginning to pang and his stomach was starting to flip and nobody looked familiar and their faces all seemed the same and they kept jostling him until his heart was beating so fast because he was scared that he’d never be able to escape the typhoon of partygoers and he wished he’d told Shiro that he was planning to come to the party like he’d been considering because Shiro wouldn’t have gotten mad at him for wanting to go and Shiro wouldn’t have let him come by himself. But it was too late because Shiro wasn’t here and Kana was on his own.

            Kana lifted his chin and straightened his posture and he said, “I’ll be fine,” even as his heart continued to strain against his ribs and then a lady nearly elbowed him in the face but it was okay because he scurried out of the way and saw an opening and he scrambled through the towering legs and then he was free and Corrin was right in front of him!

            All the chairs had been pushed against the walls to make a dance floor and she sat in one of the chairs against the far wall, talking to a man that he didn’t recognize. At first, he was really worried that she was dating the strange man because she laughed and Siegbert had been right in that Kana was really worried that she wasn’t going to end up with his papa, but then she sent the man away and Kana realized that her laugh hadn’t been a nice one and he sighed so loud that she turned her head to him and smiled when she saw him. Then, she said, “Kana! What’re you doing here?”

            He shot to the empty chair and climbed atop it as he announced, “I wanted to see you!”

            She smiled at him and she looked more like his mama than ever with her eyes rimmed in black and her hair pulled back from her face and styled all nice, though his mama usually wore her hair up and painted her lips in darker colors than red, but it was close enough to make him more homesick than he’d been in a while. He did his best not to think of the sound of the servants bustling around in the corridors or the smell of his mama and papa’s bedroom or the feel of the craggy stone walls in the hallway outside his bedroom or taste of the sandwiches Felicia packed him for lunch or the view of the courtyard from his papa’s study or the warmth of his mama’s hugs before she tucked him into bed each night.

            He did his best not to think of any of those things and then he brandished the wadded tissue paper ball and announced, “I made this for you!”

            “For me?” she questioned as she took it.

            He watched anxiously as she undid the clumsy ribbon and unraveled the paper until his gift was out in the open. He was really worried that she didn’t like it because she didn’t say anything as she took the little bird he’d spent the past two weeks painstakingly carving in his spare time into her hand and turned it in the flickering light. He swung his legs in front of and under the chair as he waited for her to say something but then she was leaning over and hugging him and saying, “Thank you! It’s so beautiful!”

            And Kana wanted to hug her forever, but he knew he couldn’t so he leaned back into his chair instead of clinging on and said, “You’re welcome!”

            She held the little wooden bird up to the light and traced at the details he’d carved with her index finger. He’d named it Micky, but he didn’t tell her that because it was hers to name now. When she was done, she lowered her hand and asked, “Where’d you learn to do this?”

            “I taught myself!”

            “That’s really impressive,” Corrin said, staring at the bird again.

            “Yeah! I used to make them all the time for gifts because my mama…”

            He trailed off without meaning to. The words “my mama” had gotten stuck in his throat and wouldn’t let anything thing else sound. He stared down at his hands as his eyes grew hot. The music didn’t sound as nice anymore. He wanted it to stop.

            “I bet you miss your mama, huh?” she asked, quietly.

            “Yeah,” he managed to say.

            “I miss my mama too,” she said and he felt stupid for wanting to cry. He would see his mama again one day, but she’d never see her mama again and her face was so sad and he wished that he could make her feel better but he didn’t know what to say so he looked away and surveyed the crowd for something funny to point out to her, but there was nothing. And then he saw Siegbert and Siegbert saw him.

            “Er, I’m really sorry. I gotta go,” Kana said to Corrin and then he leapt off the chair and darted into the crowd as she called after him. He headed in the opposite direction of Siegbert, but Siegbert had the advantage because he was so tall and he could see through the crowd when Kana couldn’t. He heard Siegbert shout after him but he didn’t stop to say hello.

            Kana bumbled his way past stamping heels and swinging bodies and knocked into several patrons and doused himself with foul smelling alcohol more than once and Siegbert kept shouting his name over the music and then he was up against another wall but there was a door a little ways away and he ran for it and shoved aside the people standing in front of it and then he was outside.

            In the freezing air and snow, Kana threw himself against the wall. His heart thundered in his ears and his face was warm. For once, the cold was good for him. But then the door was slamming open beside him and Siegbert stepped out into the night.

            Kana made to skedaddle, but Siegbert caught him by the arm and held him in place as he scolded, “You promised you wouldn’t sneak out!”

            “I know!” Kana cried as he strained against Siegbert’s grasp. “But I wanted to see mama!”

            Siegbert huffed, beginning, “She’s not—"

            “I know she’s not!” Kana shouted and then he was crying and his tears were sad and angry and scalding all at once and they made his eyes sting and his chest hurt and Siegbert let him go so he drove his hands into his eyes and rubbed until the tears dried up and he was breathing so heavy that the snow got in his mouth and froze his tongue and Siegbert didn’t say anything but Kana wished he would because he didn’t know what to say and he was embarrassed for crying so hard but then somebody was walking towards them and asking, “Is everything okay, boys?”

            Kana dropped his hands from his face and looked at the speaker and, for a second, he thought it was Shio because the man had the same face and stocky build, but it wasn’t Shiro. It was his Uncle Ryoma and Kana recognized him less from the portrait of him that hung in the chamber before the throne room in Shirasagi and more from the graffiti that had a drawing of him and the word “resist” in big chunky letters that dotted the buildings and the streets throughout Hoshido and, once, he’d even seen it in Windmire.

            “Everything’s fine,” Siegbert said but his voice was tight and squeaky and Kana knew that he was probably just as freaked out as he was because everyone who was dead in their future was alive in this past and it was one thing to know that it was the case and another thing to experience them so close.

            “Are you sure?” Ryoma asked. “We couldn’t help but to hear yelling.”

            And then Kana saw the woman hiding in the shadows beside Ryoma. He could barely make out her face, but he squinted and he saw that it was Shiro’s mom and that her hand was wrapped tight around Ryoma’s arm and Kana’s eyes bugged out of his head until Siegbert had appeased Ryoma and then Ryoma and Shiro’s mom were ducking back into the tavern.

            Kana began to shiver as the cold and excited realization set in. He looked to Siegbert, but Siegbert didn’t look happy at all. He looked like he was thinking very hard because his eyebrows pinched like they always did whenever he was thinking but Kana didn’t want to wait for him to figure it out so he tried, “Is Shiro—”

            “I don’t know,” Siegbert said before Kana had even finished thinking of the question. His fingers wound around the chain dangling beneath his scarf and he pulled it out and smoothed his fingers over the head so that the wyvern's ruby eye blinked at Kana in the moonlight.  

            “But—”

            “It’s late,” Siegbert said and Kana knew he would get no more from him on the subject but that didn’t mean he was willing to give up because Shiro had said himself that he didn’t know his father and hated him but if his father had died before he was born then maybe he wouldn’t dislike him so much and maybe he wouldn’t have to fend for himself on the streets anymore and could live in Shirasagi with Aunt Hinoka and Kana would be able to visit him whenever he wanted!

            But every time Kana tried to speak, Siegbert just cut him off until Kana got so mad that he gave up talking but he didn’t give up thinking and plotting and imagining the excitement on Shiro’s face when he told him they might be cousins!

            He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even protest when Siegbert led him back into the tavern to retrieve his coat and then walked him all the way back to their room and tucked him into bed without another word and Kana fell asleep with plans of a big family reunion streaking through his head.

 

* * *

 

            Amid trembling chords and dusting laughter, Corrin’s head dipped. Stomping feet and clapping hands lulled her farther from the physical realm. The space behind her eyelids grew gooey and warm. The carved bird Kana had gifted her stood guard atop her thigh. It had been over thirty minutes since he’d made his hasty retreat, but she’d long stopped worrying after him. Exhaustion had come to roost in her mind. It swallowed all her thoughts until there was nothing left but sleep and blackened stardust.  

            The slithering timbre of an unfamiliar voice jolted her awake. She turned to find an unfamiliar man sitting beside her, boasting loudly to everyone in the vicinity about his amazing feats and incredible physique.

            _Gross,_ she thought as he flexed for his unwitting crowd.

            She took Kana’s gift into her hand, carefully tucked it into her pocket, gathered her coat and scarf, and then stood, but her vision dissolved into hot nausea immediately. She fell still.

            _What have I eaten today?_ she wondered, but couldn’t remember.

            She pondered what had come after her meager breakfast of an apple as her vision cleared. When she was fine once more, she shook the concern from her head and scoured the crowd for an open seat.

            There was a spot at the bar beside Hinata and Kaden, but she could already hear their conversation and feared a burgeoning headache. Another seat was open between Hinoka and Sakura, but they’d both been so gloomy and passive aggressive while they’d all gotten ready earlier that she had no desire to suffer their moodiness again. There were other spots with other groups, but they each seemed less appealing than the last. The worst of which was a congregation of all her retainers against the near wall who conveniently had an available seat free. They waved at her, but she ignored them, preferring to sit down beside the arrogant man again than suffer their overbearing attention.

            It was as she stood amid the hectic merriment, weighing her options, that she spied Xander sequestered at the far end of the tavern in the corner with Peri to his left and an open chair to his right guarded by the cross of his foot over his leg. Her heart jolted as his gaze roved over her, but shuddered when it didn’t settle on her. Jittering excitement blossomed in her chest, but she shushed it with a thought of, _Stop being so ridiculous._

            Then, she was moving through the swaying crowd, ignoring invitations to dance and avoiding spilt drinks. She could smell the drunkenness on the breath of every person she passed and prickling memory thudded in the base of her skull. She could not remember much of the night she’d made a horrible fool of herself, but she definitely remembered the hangover the morning after and the passive aggressive lecture Jakob had given her while she’d laid in bed cradling her aching head.

            “Looking good, Corrin!” a voice she didn’t recognize shouted, but she gave no response, only scowling and continuing on. She hoped they felt they could talk to her in such a way because she’d made herself friendly and approachable, but knew better than to put her full faith into such a notion.

            With a quiet “excuse me,” Corrin shoved her way through a tightly knit group of dancers who giggled after her. Her grip had grown so tight on her coat that the thin bones in her hand strained against her flesh. The crowd bore in on her, elbows scraping against her arms and sweat stinging her nose. She pressed back, forming her body into a sharp point, and broke through the wall of dancers.

            Free of the cavorting mass, her shoulders deflated as the tension left her body and her fingers lessened around her coat. She feathered a hand through her hair, but her fingers caught around the braid that Camilla had woven like a tiara around the back of her skull, sitting atop the rest of her curls. Earlier, she had tried to undo it, but the intricate, interlocking strands had proven beyond her skill to remove. Still, she plied at the plait with her nails, searching for a weakness that would release her hostage curls.    

            _I’m stuck with it,_ she thought.

            She dropped her hand with a sigh and took solace in the fact that Camilla had opted for a half up hairstyle rather than the massive updo Camilla had chosen for herself which sat atop her head like a purple beehive and added several inches to her towering silhouette.

            Corrin had managed to lose the other woman in the hustle and bustle of the celebration, but kept a constant eye out for her. Ever since things had ended with Silas, Camilla had been relentless in finding Corrin another suitor, citing a belief that the only cure for a broken heart was a new love.

            _“Even a fling will do,”_ Camilla had announced on the way to the tavern earlier that evening. _“And, since you don’t have anyone in mind, I’ve taken it upon myself to line up a respectable group.”_

But Camilla was mistaken. Corrin’s heart wasn’t broken and she did have someone in mind, but she had no idea what make of her attraction so she wasn’t eager to voice her delusional interest aloud. All she wanted was to dwell in the quiet thrill of her impossible longing until it had passed. At the very least, it provided a simple distraction from the doom and gloom each new day brought.

            Now, Corrin, fresh from her battle with the unrelenting partygoers, came to stand before Xander and Peri with a small smile. Xander returned her smile. Peri stared with unblinking eyes. One of Camilla’s handmade wheat doll decorations sat in her lap. Its painted eyes had been scratched out.

            Corrin’s smile wavered, but she asked, “Enjoying the celebration?”

            “Wasn’t the harvest months ago?” Peri responded as she rent the doll in half.

            “Yes, but we never officially celebrated it,” Corrin said, eyeing the wheat guts strewn across Peri’s pants. The shorn doll head lolled from Peri’s fist. Peri discarded it on the floor and then brushed the rest of it from her pants. When she’d finished, she looked up and fixed Corrin with a smile that dripped cold mania at the edges. Corrin masked her unease by coughing into her arm.

            “It was a good idea,” Xander announced.

            Her confusion bled out onto the planes of her face and then Xander hastily added, “The harvest celebration, I mean. We were all in desperate need of a morale boost.”

            Peri rolled her eyes and flopped against the back of her chair with the mannerisms of a bored child. She stared at Corrin with such spiritless intensity that Corrin’s fingers itched for Yato instinctively. Though she had known Peri almost as long as she had known Xander, Corrin had never grown comfortable with the other woman’s strange, childish behavior. Often, she wondered if Xander had taken her under his wing as some sort of charity project.

            Directing her attention away from Peri’s bottomless stare, Corrin turned to Xander and asked, “Mind if I join you?”

            “Of course,” Xander said. His crossed leg thumped against the ground, freeing up the seat beside him for her. She smiled in silent gratitude. Then, as she moved to sit, Peri moved to stand, muttering, “I’m going to find Laslow.”

            Corrin watched Peri’s pink and blue dipped pigtails swish pedantically until they were barred from sight by the crowd. Flickering anticipation alit in her stomach at the realization that Peri’s departure had left her alone with Xander.

            While she folded her coat in her lap and set her scarf on top of it, she asked, “So how does this compare to the parties your high court throws?”

            “It’s much…”

            As he searched for the word, she toyed with the edge of her scarf, alternating between rolling it around her finger and tracing the latticework of stitches in the soft fabric. Felicia had made it for her after Jakob had sworn off providing her with more handmade clothing when she’d misplaced the last pair of mittens he’d made her. He claimed that she didn’t appreciate all his hard work and effort.

            “Less involved,” Xander said at last. 

            Corrin gestured to dancing, drinking, fighting, and singing mass of soldiers and civilians alike and questioned, “How could anything be _more_ involved than this?”

            Immediately after she’d voiced her question, an archer doused a ninja with a full flagon of beer. The two began to scream at each other in shrill, hysterical voices. Corrin poked her thumb towards the argument to emphasize her point.

            “I misspoke,” he said, watching the couple with distant concern. “This is much livelier, but it’s simple fun. No one is fearful of a dagger in the back or the public reveal of their most carefully guarded secrets.”

            His eyes had clouded with unkind memory, but his good mood remained in the placidity of his mouth so she pressed, “They’re that extreme?”

            The workings of the Nohrian high court had always remained forever out of reach as she had been barred from the knowledge during her time in the Northern Fortress and had never thought to ask after it in the time since.

            “If there are less than three nobles ousted as having affairs or bastard children and only one assassination attempt, then it’s a failed event,” Xander explained. His words dripped with dark humor.

            “I had no idea,” Corrin said, biting her lip. “Your sisters talk about them like they’re the pinnacle of human existence or something.”

            It wasn’t a lie. Camilla’s offhanded comments about the royal balls had always illustrated an image of seductive intrigue and high-class refinement while Elise had always highlighted the fun she had dancing with her friends and eating sweets. Taking cues from both of the Nohrian princesses, Corrin had always imagined the high court galas rendered in dripping black and red, populated by women dressed in elaborate, low-backed gowns whispering into each other’s ears and men with arresting eyes baring expressions of smoldering pride standing before trays of all the delicacies Nohr had to offer. Sometimes, when she had the time to let her creativity wander, she pictured herself rubbing elbows with the aloof Nohrian elite and stoking Garon’s opposition through whispered secrets and exhaustive flirting.  

            “I don’t doubt it,” Xander said, drawing Corrin from her imagination. “Elise is too young to understand the truth and Camilla holds the entire court in the palm of her hand.”

            The direct mention of Camilla sent her gaze out over the crowd, searching for a swatch of purple amid the meshed color scheme. As she exhausted her panic, she asked, “How does she manage to do that?”

            Xander shrugged. A song ended and applause deafened. When it had passed and the musicians began a new, slower tune, Xander said, “Blackmail, mostly.”

            The calmness of his delivery made her pause.

            “And you’re okay with that?” she asked.

            “I don’t have much of a choice. Blackmail and deceit are as natural to the high court as breathing,” he said with a sigh.

            _Was it natural before your father’s rule?_ she wanted to ask, but the resignation in his voice gave her enough of an answer that she said instead, “Well, I’m glad I never had to attend.”

            “Me too. It was the one mercy my father extended,” he said. “I don’t think you would have cared for us as much in your youth if you’d seen how we were forced to behave at court.”

            Corrin could hear the strain in his voice. She wondered after the role he took for the court and knew it must have been worse than the part he often played as the distant, cruel heir apparent. The scarcity of warmth in his expression and his refusal to look at her killed her thoughts. She changed the subject.

            “So, you said Camilla has blackmail on everyone, but does she have any on anyone here?” she asked.

            Again, she scoured for Camilla, but found nothing in the swirling mass of color and physicality.

            _She must have found someone else to micromanage,_ Corrin thought as Xander announced, “She hasn’t had quite enough time to spin her web, but she does have some. Like…”

            He pointed to a nearby man who was relatively unassuming in both stature and appearance. Corrin vaguely recognized him as a frequent patron of the tavern, but couldn’t recall ever having had a conversation with him.

            “He’s having an affair with his wife’s brother’s best friend and…”

            Her eyebrows peaked in surprise. Xander pointed to a woman who was wrapped around a fair-haired man like a second skin.

            “She collects discarded hair and fashions it into likenesses of the owner.”

            Corrin nearly asked if there was anyone else with juicy secrets, but his smirk halted her question.  

            “Haha, you nearly had me,” she said, humorously, yet a smile quirked her lips.

            His smirk only broadened. A feverish chill arced down her spine. She had felt herself bowing towards him like a wave drawn by the pull of the moon, but only became aware of how close she'd drawn at that moment. She bit her lip. She drew back.

            “Okay, okay, but, seriously,” she began, “does she have anything on me?”

            It was a legitimate question. Often, Corrin felt like nothing more than an oddity to Camilla, something to enjoy and play with until she grew bored and moved onto something else. She had long feared the consequences of falling from the other woman’s graces.

            But Xander shook his head and responded, “What’s there to blackmail? You’re rather remarkable.”

            Corrin blanched. Little comments and compliments of the like had a tendency to send her spiraling. They always materialized from thin air to sock her in the chest and frenzy her thoughts. Sometimes, his little kindnesses churned her emotions so severely that she laid awake at night trying to determine whether he’d been flirting with her or not. She’d yet to come to a solid conclusion.

            “I, uh, you’re not so bad yourself,” she managed to say. Then, she cringed.

            The awkwardness of her words was immediately palpable, thickening the air around her until she could feel it bearing down on her. Xander smiled, but it was marred by his uncertainty as he said, “Thanks, I think.”

            A shadow approached from the crowd, blotting out the light that fell on her and distracting her from the flatlining conversation.

            _Oh gods,_ she thought, certain that Camilla towered beside her, but then she turned to find Kaze.

            Her anxiety abated and she squinted at his imperceptible face, trying to determine what had spurred his approach. He nodded to Xander and then asked, “Lady Corrin, might I steal you for a moment?”

            “Of course,” she said. She stood, leaving her things on the chair to mark her continued presence.  She didn’t say a word to Xander as she left, but she saw the pinch of his brow and wished that she had.

            Kaze led her along the row of sitting spectators against the wall. The further they ventured from the amassed partygoers, the more she feared the news he brought.

            When he finally came to a stop in the corner of the tavern where the light couldn’t reach and the people didn’t converge, Corrin asked, “Is there news on Arete?”

            She had assigned Leo to examine the body just that morning. Though she longed for answers, she hadn’t expected them so soon.

            “No,” Kaze said with a shake of his head, “Jakob asked me to relay a message to you.”

            She scowled and looked throughout the tavern for Jakob. He was nowhere to be seen.

            “What is it?” she asked.

            “He asks that you please consider refraining from fawning so openly over Lord Xander,” Kaze said.

            His face remained as impassive as ever. Corrin felt her eye twitch. Her face burned. She glanced around the area, fearing someone had overheard, but there was only one woman, sprawled across three chairs and snoring loudly.  

            “He couldn’t tell me that himself?” she managed to grind out from between her clenched teeth. She didn’t know whether she was more affronted or angry. She began to bite her painted lip so that she didn’t burst her teeth from clenching.

            “He believed that if I conveyed the suggestion, you would be more likely to adhere to it,” Kaze said.

            She bit down harder on her lip until the lipstick began to flake off onto her tongue. It tasted like candlewax. The chatter and the music seemed all the louder and more offensive. Kaze added, “For what it’s worth, I believe he is far out of his authority to be suggesting such a thing.”

            Corrin narrowed her eyes at him. She asked, “Then why did you tell me?”

            “He initially asked Felicia, but she burst into tears at the prospect,” Kaze explained. “I also thought it a wise way to warn you of Jakob’s opinion on the subject. Felicia and I are not so perturbed.”

            _I didn’t know I needed your approval,_ she thought, but didn’t say. She knew he was just attempting to be kind in stating his support, but her annoyance with the entire situation disoriented her thoughts. She sighed and stopped biting her lip, refusing to meet his eyes. She jutted her mouth petulantly and announced, “Well, I guess that makes sense.”

            “Yes, well, enjoy the rest of your night,” Kaze said, inclining his head to her.            

            Then, he was dripping into the shadows and disappearing into the throng of joyous celebration.

            When he’d left completely, Corrin crossed her arms and kicked at the leg of the nearest chair. Her boot thunked against it, but the sound was not as satisfying as she had hoped. She swallowed and her tongue was fuzzy from melting lipstick. She swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand until her knuckles were falsely bloodied. Then, she followed the line of chairs back to her awaiting coat and Xander.

            _Jakob has a lot of nerve,_ she thought with a flash of frustration in her chest. As she walked, she continued to sift through the crowd, looking for his arrogant face. There were several words that she wished to convey to him, but she had no luck in locating him.

 _If he’s smart, he’s hiding,_ she thought.

            As she drew nearer to her destination, she began to register hushed bickering beneath the strumming chords and aerosolized delight. Soon, the bickering became distinct voices, though she couldn’t manage to make out words, and then she saw that her seat had been taken by the very woman she’d dreaded running into.

            Camilla lounged in the chair as she would any other, but her posture was stiff and articulated by the bite of her tone. Each ounce of venom she exuded, Xander returned, glaring at his sister with a wrath that would have turned lesser beings to dust.

            Corrin caught the tail end of Camilla’s final tirade, something about having control over one’s own actions, and then both Nohrians rearranged their emotions with varying degrees of success. Xander appeared utterly nonplussed, but Camilla had only managed to remove the glare from her eyes so her mouth still quivered in frustration as she cried, “Corrin!”

            “Is everything okay?” Corrin asked, noticing that her coat lay in a heap on the floor and her scarf was strewn across Xander’s lap.

            _I was only gone for five minutes,_ she thought, bending to pick her coat up off the floor. As she dusted it off, Camilla announced, “Oh, I’m sorry about your coat, darling, but yes, everything’s fine. It was nothing.”

            Xander handed Corrin her scarf. She didn’t miss how quickly his hand jerked away from hers. The fire that he had once stoked sputtered inside her.

            “It doesn’t look like nothing,” Corrin said, draping her scarf across her bundled coat in her arms.

            “Oh, just a sibling spat! You know how those are!” Camilla said with a forced laugh and a dismissive swat of her hand.

            Corrin scowled. Xander stared at her, but she couldn’t read his gaze. She said to Camilla, “Actually, I can’t really say that I do.”

            Camilla winced. Then, she stood, announcing, “Ah, well, I’ve come to fetch you. There are several gentlemen callers who want to see you.”

            She squinted at Corrin, wrinkling her nose and mouth to match her brow, but Corrin ignored her expression, saying, “Well, I don’t want to see them.”

            Corrin glanced at Xander, wondering after his reaction, but his attention was fixated on his sister. Irritated, Corrin turned to Camilla with a scowl and found the other woman licking at her thumb. Then, in a flash, Camilla lurched forward and daubed at the hinge of Corrin’s mouth. Corrin reared back, glaring at Camilla and dragging her wrist across her mouth in rapid motion.

            “I was only trying to help,” Camilla said, an air of annoyance infiltrating her tone. “You can’t very well meet your suitors looking like a harlot.”

            Corrin’s wrist froze over her mouth. Her eyes blazed out from over arm. Something primal twisted in her stomach and, for a brief, sickening moment, she wanted to lash out in rage and aggression to quell it, but the sound of the celebration grounded her. She wound her scarf around her neck instead.

            As she put on her coat, Camilla chirped, “Oh, that’s a great idea! Hiding your figure will aid another layer to your suitors’ pursuit!”

            Swishing, twisting fury crested in her once more, but she drove it back down as her fingers bent around the buttons of her coat.

            “I’m not going with you, Camilla,” Corrin said. Already, her coat was beginning to insulate her and it was hot enough in the tavern already.

            “What? Why?” Camilla demanded. A strand of hair poked from her meticulously styled updo. It tickled the air in erratic strokes as Camilla shifted to cross her arms. 

            “I’m exhausted and I’d rather sleep than deal with men I’ve never even met before,” Corrin announced. “I’m going back to my room.”

            Camilla’s mouth twitched into the shadow of a sneer and then fell into a disappointed sigh. She said, “Alright, darling. If that’s what you want.”

            “I can walk you back, Corrin,” Xander said, “If you’d like.”

            “I would,” Corrin said. Her smile came naturally despite the frustration simmering her thoughts.

            Xander nodded and stood, removing his coat from the back of his chair and donning it quickly. As he worked over the buttons, Camilla stammered, “I-I will too!”

            She spun in a circle, searching wildly for a coat to equip, but there were none. She began rubbing at her arms as if a bit of mild preparation could prepare her for the tundra outside.  

            _So, she doesn’t want me to be alone with Xander,_ Corrin surmised, but she didn’t quite know why. She glanced at Xander, looking for the answers in his body language, but he was as closed off as ever. She said to Camilla, “It’s alright. You stay and enjoy the rest of the party.”

            Camilla’s bright-eyed, crazed expression shattered. When it had reformed, her lips were pursed in haughty resolution.

            “Of course, darling,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to break your heart.”

            Her words were overemphasized and a touch melodramatic. Corrin’s squinted, expecting a further elaboration, but none came. Then, Camilla touched a hand to her meticulously styled hair and sashayed away with a coy wave and an insincere goodbye.

            Corrin’s chest constricted in confused anger. She didn’t know why, but Camilla had walked away thinking she’d had the upper hand and it boiled the fragile string of patience she had left. Xander said something, but his words didn’t catch her as she made for the exit.

            The moments it took to travel through the crowd to the doors and out into the night were liquidous. Faces melded together and there was only a single swell of mingled sound. And then, the closing doors. The stark cold of the unforgiving wind. The still of the snow-covered world. The flicker of the magelights lining the path. The rush of her own breath. The calm of Xander beside her.

            Her ire settled back into the black of her mind. A blush stretched up from her neck to coat her cheeks. She stumbled over an apology for her behavior, saying, “Sorry, I just… Camilla was acting weird, right?”

            “Right,” he said. His deep voice was lessened to a purring murmur by the cascading snow. She shivered, but the cold had yet to reach her.

            “Do you know why?” she asked, setting out across the purified landscape.

            The snow was soft beneath her boots, freshly fallen and sprightful despite its long fall from the sky. Soon, it would freeze into a single sheet of ice that refused to bend to forceful feet and shirked careful balance. Then, the mages would be sent out to burn the ice until mush puddles dampened the entire camp.  

            Xander was slow in providing a response as he walked alongside her. He seemed to be thinking, but she was impatient.

            _I need to know if I’m right about Camilla,_ she thought and drew courage from the clench of her fingers to suggest, “I thought it had something to do with our relationship.”

            Her words were restrained, but her heart was not. It thrummed in her ears and beat a quick staccato against her ribs. She tried to remember how she had felt with Silas that night among the stirring grass and the whispering wildflowers and how she had handled her anticipation, but couldn’t. This seemed different somehow. More ardent and sincere and infinitely less certain and established.

            “Yours and Camilla’s?” he asked.

            She inhaled and the snow tickled her chest. She exhaled and clarified, “No, yours and mine.”

            He didn’t say anything. She saw the muscle flex along his jaw and the silence was too much so she supplied, “I thought maybe she was worried that we’ll start feuding again or something.”

            It was a concern she held herself, despite or, maybe, because of the confusing slush of emotions he made her feel. She felt she’d managed to worm herself into his good graces, but she didn’t know how far that extended or how permanent it was. She would always be the one who had turned from him and his country. And he would be king someday.

            “It’s not that,” Xander said.

            But he didn’t elaborate and she didn’t ask him to. She’d lost her nerve.

            The wind whistled through her hair. Snowflakes glittered in the magelights as they tumbled from the sky to blanket the earth in absolute white. They crunched beneath her feet. She could feel their chill in her toes. She brought her hands to her mouth to breathe feeling back into them, but the winter turned her hot breath to vapor before it could reach her fingers. 

            “The snow’s really coming down,” he said.

            The world was quiet behind his voice. The wind blew plumes of shimmering snow across the fluffy dunes, but its roar was muffled by the pouring snow. The magelights hissed with each caress of snow against their sizzling surfaces. Her treehouse stretched above her. She paused before it to adjust her scarf and said, “It’s really beautiful out here.”

            “It is,” he agreed, but he wasn’t looking out over the landscape. He was looking at her.

            Excited heat sparked between her shoulders and manifested throughout her body as a steady, burning shiver. His gaze made her laugh to break the tension. She bit her lip and the skin was raw from the cold. Her voice was barely a whisper as she asked, “What?”

            She wanted him to tell her that he cared for her. She wanted him to brush the stray hair from her face and to hold her with freezing hands despite the raging cold. She wanted him to stoop down to kiss her in the incandescent snow.

            But he didn’t.

            He turned to the fortress looming behind him, barely visible through the whipping wind and snow, and his smile faded and his posture hardened and he said, “It’s nothing.”

            Then, he bid her goodnight with crushing finality and walked away.

            Corrin watched him fade into the sweeping storm. Her heartbeat died in time with his retreating footsteps. The passion that had moved her had given way to a humming numbness that softened the disappointment. She turned to the steps and vaulted up them.

            Halfway through her climb, her ears perked to the sound of a creaking board. A chill plunged down from the nape of her neck. She stopped. Her fingers bent into the handrail. She looked up to the landing.   

            “What the hell was that?” Takumi demanded when her gaze alit on his thin form. His russet eyes peered out from the molting shadows around him.

            She scowled, continuing up the steps, and mumbled, “Hello to you too.”

            Anger splotched the blade of his cheekbones and ruffled his posture. He didn’t speak again until she’d reached the landing and stood beside him.

            “You know, it was bad enough when it was just Silas sniffing around but now you’ve really shot up the pecking order.”

            She fell out of her stride and glared at him.

            “What the hell are you talking about?” she demanded.  

            Up high, the wind was vengeful. It ripped through her hair, wanting to pluck the strands straight from her skull. She could feel her skin cracking and drying against its assault. The snow that coated her head and shoulders had turned to shards of ice that jabbed into flesh and fabric alike.

            “I’m talking about that scum practically salivating all over you and you gladly lapping it up,” he spat.

            She shook her head in disgust and shoved past him to unlock her door. She said, “You’re out of your mind.”

            “I wish I was!” he snapped. “I wish I hadn’t seen—"

            “He didn’t even do anything!” Corrin shouted, forcing the door open as the key turned in the lock and then whirling around to face him. Her dragonstone eked aggression. It flashed once beneath the cover of her clothes.

            Takumi stared at her like she’d cuffed him across the face and shattered his nose. He stood so still that the wind ripped around him with the force of the trade winds. Wrath emanated from the hunch of his shoulders and the tension in his mouth.

            “Did you come here for something?” she demanded, crossing her arms and squeezing until pain radiated throughout the lengths of her forearms.  

            “Forget it,” he said.

            Then, he raced down the steps. His feet thumped against each board with such malice that the branches swayed overhead and dropped snow and ice. She slammed the door before he’d reached the ground.

            With a grunt of frustration, Corrin ripped free of her coat and scarf and chunked both across the room where they slung over her desk and disturbed the carefully stacked papers. As requisitions and scout reports fluttered to floor, Corrin moved to her mirror and tore at the braid in her hair until it came undone. Then, she flung herself face first onto her bed, buried her face in her pillow, and exhaled until her chest shook.

            By the time Felicia arrived to check in on her before bed, her anger had exhausted her into black, fitful sleep.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a LONG chapter lol. This is coming out a bit later in the week because I ended up adding A LOT to Corrin's section. This was initially only about 4,500 words and it shot up to around 8,000 by the time I was done revising. So yeah, it was one hell of a revision lol.  
> I really enjoy exploring the flaws in Camilla's over protectiveness/possessiveness because I never felt that they were really addressed in canon. Like, it was noted that maybe Camilla was a little unhinged and domineering, but it's never said outright and she gets away with FAR too much in her supports imho. But she's probably one of the more interesting characters in Fates if only because her characterization leaves a lot of room for interpretation. I suppose that's honestly one of the upsides of the spotty characterization in Fates is that you can really write the characters in a myriad of ways so long as you hit all the touchstones of their personalities, provided they have some.  
> As always, I hope y'all enjoyed and let me know what you think! :p


	19. Augury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corrin has a vision.

            Corrin awoke into nothingness, unsure of everything but her own existence. She curled her fingers out in search of the soft downy of her comforter but they scraped at stale air. She shifted her legs, but felt only the kiss of cold stone on the smooth skin of her calves. She blinked, but there was no light to guide her sight. There was only the creeping scent of dusty cobwebs and the musk of stagnant water.

            _Where the hell am I?_ she thought.

            She reached for Yato, but its weight was gone from her hip. She found the smooth fabric of her nightgown instead. Memories of the night before swelled and then faded without ceremony. They were of no use to her now. The only sound was the gentle push of her breath.

            She stretched above her, feeling for a ceiling, stricken with the sudden fear that she’d found herself encased in a coffin, but touched open air. Relief moved her feet and then she was crouching in the black, steadying herself by touching her fingers to the solid ground beneath her. She waited for her eyes to adjust. They didn’t.

            Her fear grew hot around the hollow of her neck and then her dragonstone pulsated with dim light. The small illuminations showed her the cracked tile, warped with age, beneath her feet and the stone columns, twisted with thorny overgrowth, that erupted from the ground before her. Its shine could extend no farther.

            She crept forward. Her fingers wound tight around her dragonstone. The tile was blistering cold beneath the soles of her feet. With the little light encasing her like a cocoon, the darkness seemed all the more infinite. She listened for echoing footsteps or snuffling breaths, but there was nothing. She thought she could hear the thrum of blood within her veins.

            The columns vaulted up towards an invisible ceiling as she passed between them. She saw that the vines gripping the stone were dried and drooping. She reached to touch between the thorns, but the entire roping length turned to flaking dust under the pressure of her finger. The motes flashed in the subtle light, caught on a slipstream of soundless wind, and then vanished entirely. She continued forward.

            A few steps beyond the columns, the tile glistened with thin moisture. Her reflection rippled beneath her as the water deepened to cover her toes. In it, she looked like a lost little girl. She held her dragonstone out before her, but there was only more water.

            _“Go back.”_

Corrin lurched backwards. Her step splashed soundlessly. Adrenaline drew armor from her flesh. Only her head remained uncovered. She brandished her razor-sharp talons.

            But nothing came for her. She stilled, but she didn’t relax. The water’s glisten had turned sinister. She could feel an arcane heartbeat lapping at the soles of her feet. Something like lightning pinged in the ether of her mind. Her posture threatened to rend her spine from the muscle cushioning it. Invisible eyes leered from the dark. She knew she had been found.

            _“Like calls to like.”_

             The columns stretched like beacons behind her. She ran for them. Her feet slapped against the floor in articulated squelches and the sound shuddered through her.

            As her hand came to touch the smooth curve of the column, she realized she had conjured the voice inside her head. She hadn’t heard it aloud. Nothing moved in the dark. Her armor began to nestle back beneath the crooks of her elbows and the base of her neck. She told herself she was dreaming.

            A boom thundered before her. She threw herself against the column, away from the sound. Shock roared in her ears. Gentle light pinged from between her fingers. She stuffed the smooth stone beneath the hem of her nightgown and held both hands over the lump. There was nothing. Her heartbeat throbbed in the tips of her fingers. She held her breath.

            Then, the _whoosh_ of a flame. The yellow-orange of its flicker. The skittering of hooves. The yearning of a deer. The flame drew nearer. It burned her eyes. It choked her resolve.

            Three figures passed her. Two of them were robed and they were thin and waifish. One of them held a torch aloft. The third was a young girl. Her hair was plaited severely down the length of her spine. She was dainty and walked with such a flourish that Corrin thought she might take flight in the dismal space.

            The deer followed after the three, sporting overgrown antlers and billowing steam into the freezing air. One of the robed figures dragged the buck forward by a cord wrapped tight around its neck. The more it struggled, the sharper the cord bit into its flesh. Congealed blood matted the coarse hair beneath the cord.

            The flame licked the vaulted ceiling in a way the feeble flashing of her dragonstone had been incapable. Words, in Vallite, flashed from every inch like the gemstones of a brooch. They seemed to have been carved and fashioned of stained glass, each baring a different tint in the low light.

            The trio came to a stop just as their likenesses began to glisten in the water beneath them. The buck calmed in its fight. For a moment, it seemed like there was an entire parallel world stretched infinite beneath the water’s surface. Then, one of the robed figures dropped the bucks’ tether.

            It exploded forward in a burst of percussive sound. It didn’t double back towards the figures, but charged deeper into the water. It splashed and kicked and chugged until the water had crept up to its knees.

            The robed figures looked to each other. The girl turned to the water. Corrin’s grasp tightened around her dragonstone. Its heart beat louder than her own. Her fingers strained to the point of snapping.  

            The flickering light of the torch caught in the glittering façade of each strange word, sending beams of metallic color across the room. The air began to sharpen. The foul water began to quiver.

            The questions of why and how she’d gotten there dissolved. They didn’t matter anymore. They didn’t matter if she wouldn’t live to tell the tale.

            The buck startled, but a mountain rose from the frothing water. A rainstorm slicked from its back. Each drip of falling water echoed. Corrin saw with a jolt of liquid fear that it wasn’t a mountain. It was an arm. Dense plating covered its entirety. Its infernal talons glinted once in the firelight. Then, it slammed over top of the buck’s hindlegs, shattering its spine. The ground quaked. The air screamed in warning.

            The claw wrapped around the buck’s trunk. The buck hawed and thrashed. Blood spread across the water. The air was rich with the scent of it. Corrin could taste it, dense and meaty, on her tongue. The buck fell silent. Its eye, black and glossy, lulled to Corrin, looking, but not seeing. The deer sank beneath the water with a small _glub_. The water stilled.

            The robed figures fell to their knees. Their arms slapped against the thin layer of water on the tiles. The torch extinguished from the motion of their worship. The girl stood resolute. Corrin’s lip quivered. Her fear was raw and pungent in her mouth. The room began to shake. Debris fell from the ceiling. Coils of smoke rose from the water. Corrin could hear a woman shrieking. The words began to pulse in hastened, metered unison. The world strobed in and out of vision. Something breached from the water. 

            Nausea knotted Corrin’s stomach. Terror took her breath. She couldn’t feel anything but her own mortality. It felt like a grain of sand in the eye of a hurricane. She was certain she would lose it.

            The world drowned in scarlet light. A massive, multi-pupiled eye whirled inside a skull of iron and brimstone. It hung above the reverent trio like the morning star. The blackness had become the blade of a guillotine, posed to lash out with fatal intent without warning or reason. Corrin was petrified. She stared into the face of nightmare incarnate and could think only a single name. The name of her enemy. The name of the Silent Dragon.

            _Anankos._

            The young girl spoke to the beast. No words were voiced to the open air, but there was a fuzz in Corrin’s mind. She could hear, but she could not understand. She didn’t want to. She could feel mania and hatred within the incomprehensible hiss.

            _“This is what you face.”_

The haze in her mind cleared. She heard only her slipping sanity. Anankos began to sink back beneath the water. The etched words overhead began to dim. The trio moved for the door. Corrin could not hear their footsteps.

_“You have to be ready.”_

            The trio opened the door. The robed acolytes vanished into whatever lay beyond, but the girl paused. She turned to glance up at the fading light and Corrin saw her face for the first time. And she knew her and knew it was her voice in her head.

            Corrin ran for her, but Lilith only shook her head to the growing darkness. Then, she moved through the doors. They slammed shut behind her. Corrin fell upon the them. She beat her hands against them. She kicked at the them. She raged at them. The stone did not give way.

            _“He’s coming for you.”_

            _Don’t leave me!_ Corrin tried to scream. The words wouldn’t sound. She shattered herself against the impassive doors. Anything to get away. Anything to survive. Anything. Anything. Anything.

            Then, the sharp kiss of snow moistened the crown of her skull. The whistle of wind through open sky. The left side of her face pressed hard into unrelenting stone. Her heart played a brisk symphony with her pulse. She opened her eyes to the winedark of morning. The sleep was slow to leave her eyes. She wasn’t in bed, but she wasn’t in that chamber of horror either.

            _A dream,_ she thought.

            Looking to her surroundings, vague recognition, akin to the first time she’d set foot in Shirasagi after a lifetime away, twitched in the back of her skull. She clambered onto hand and knee. Realization punched a hole in her lungs. She sank to sit overtop of her ankles, legs bent beneath her. Snow and starlight blessed her bare skin. 

            Decay dotted the stone and had crumbled the ceiling, but everything else was much the same. She thought of the many nights spent at the base of the dais she’d found herself at. Of the many concerns voiced to patient ears. Of the many unsaid gratitudes that hung in the air like cobwebs.

            She listened for Lilith, tried to feel her presence in the slumbering stone and unbreathed air, but it wasn’t there. She didn’t know what to think. Or what to do. The cold set into her skin. She had never been one to sleepwalk, but, even if she had, her retainers would never have let her slip past into the cruel cold of night.

            The inkling of a theory began to weave itself together in her sleep addled mind, but it cowered at the piercing crack that sounded overhead. It was the sound the sea had made when Camilla had come for her and frozen solid all the water for miles and the sound her leg had made when Iago had cut through with malice and poison to the study bone within. It was the sound that heralded the end of safety and the end of peace.

            Through the hole in the ceiling, she watched the wards fall in a bang of shredding light and splintering sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, I'm really sorry for the delay. The next chapter will most likely also be just as delayed but I hope to post it by next Monday at the latest so keep an eye out for it. Life did what life does best and got complicated lol.   
> As always, thank you for reading and feel free to let me know what you think! :p <3


	20. Invasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kana frets. Corrin escapes. Leo breaks.

            A month after Kana had turned five, he had gone with his mama and papa to see the Wind Tribe. He remembered it was a month after his seventh birthday because he had gotten a book that had been enchanted so that anything stuck to its pages didn’t fall off, provided it was small enough, and he’d spent the entire trip stuffing the book with flowers and twigs and feathers and bits of glass and even the shed skin of a snake he’d found while trekking through the desert until he’d completely filled it up and raged that he’d run out of room. He remembered his papa scolding him for making such a scene in front of the Wind Tribe chieftain, but the chieftain had laughed and said that Kana reminded him of his mama when she’d been there last and then he’d taken his mama somewhere else so Kana and his papa had gone to look out over the desert because Kana had never seen anything like the orange dunes of sand in his entire life and Siegbert had been there too and Kana had pretended like he would push Siegbert over the edge and down into the piled sand because he thought the look on Siegbert’s was really funny, but his papa had scolded him again and the only reason he remembered any of it was because of the tornadoes that some of the novice wind diviners had made.

            The tornadoes made by the novice wind diviners were small and puny, barely audible to Kana from where he stood so far above them, but their swirling, shaky funnels of condensed wind were mystifying. Then, the master wind diviner had stepped forward and ripped the clouds from the sky and conjured whirling fury and Kana had cried as it tore up the sand and spoiled the sky and screamed like a person and wailed like a ghost and Kana had hated the tornado so much that he had nightmares of it boiling the clouds and twisting apart everything he loved until so many years had passed that he couldn’t remember what it had sounded like anymore. Except, when the wards had shattered above the fortress, he remembered perfectly.

            Now, he stood in the foyer of the fortress dressed in his training leathers with his sword hanging from his hip and everything he’d been able to carry out from his room at his feet. He rubbed at his dragonstone through his cuirass, knowing better than to pull it out in the open because Siegbert had snapped at him for trying to do so earlier.

            Kana tried not to think of tornadoes or the person he’d heard begging for their life outside his window or the shuddering silhouettes he had seen among the flames that licked through the camp or the way Siegbert had screamed at him to hurry up when he’d struggled to lace his boot correctly or the face Shiro had made when he’d said, “I was worried you’d be out treasure hunting,” after Kana had come to stand beside him in the foyer or the brief glimpse of his papa Kana had gotten where he’d looked more worried than Kana had ever seen or the looks Soleil and Shigure kept sending each other like they both wanted to say they were sorry but didn’t know how or the fact that Corrin was missing and nobody knew where she was.

            Her retainers stood amassed at the foot of the stairs, beside the hole in the floor that Ryoma had opened up so they could escape. Kana strained to hear their conversation, but it sank beneath the murmur of everyone else’s voices so he just stared at them and wondered so hard about why they were just standing there biting their thumbs instead of going out and looking for Corrin that his head felt like it was full of fire. He glared until Shiro clapped him on the back and told him he looked like he was trying to kill someone with his stare. And maybe he was because Kaze held Yato in its scabbard and Jakob and Felicia split Corrin’s armor between them and it gleamed in their still arms and Kana couldn’t think of anything more boneheaded they could do. What if she was stuck out there and she ran to get her sword and her armor but they weren’t there? What if she got hurt because her retainers were stupid? What if she died?

            Kana felt sick to his stomach so he pressed his fist between his eyebrows to stop the churning emotion beneath the skin, but it didn’t do anything so he thwacked it with his fist until Siegbert snatched at his arm and told him to knock it off and Kana could feel his dragonstone whispering against his chest and he wanted to take it in his palm and answer its call and go search for Corrin himself. But he knew that would be the last thing Corrin would want. She had made him promise he wouldn’t transform unless he had no other choice. He’d promised but when he’d asked her why, she’d just said, “Some things are better left as secrets.”

            And he wished he didn’t have to keep it a secret. He wished everyone knew so that he could go look for Corrin without anyone stopping him because she was gone and she was in danger and nobody was doing anything but standing around and listening to the slaughter outside the barricade.

            “We can’t wait for her anymore,” Kana heard Ryoma say and he wanted to scream, but he knew he couldn’t so he didn’t. 

 

* * *

 

            Bits of stone crumbled beneath Corrin’s talons and fell into the expanse of swirling dark and snow below her feet. She stretched up for the scalloped outcropping above that formed a decorative frame for a window and sank her hooked hand into the pliable stone. It fractured around her pressure, but it didn’t crumble. She cemented her other hand near the first in much the same way. She pushed and then dug her feet into the stone. Her reflection stared at her from the frosted windowpane.

            Corrin saw her human face, hard-eyed, stiff-jawed, and raw from the howling cold, but did not look to the interlocking scales and inhumanity that encased the rest of her like a carapace. Her stomach rolled. But there was no time for self-consciousness.

            Thralls moaned up at her. A number of them pursued her up the side of the fortress. They were faster than any others she’d encountered and, while they still weren’t fast enough to match her, they’d carved a path of blood and viscera through the camp. There was no telling at that moment the damage they’d wrought. The cascading snow muffled the death throes of all their victims.

            Corrin yanked her right hand from the stone, fisted it, and then jabbed it through the glass. The window burst around her arm, but thick shards still clung to their bearings. She wormed her arm behind the remaining glass and then pushed out, sending the jagged blades rocketing out from the fortress. The wind stole the smaller panes, whisking them away until their glint vanished in the blizzard. The heavier panes fell as if guided by an executioner’s hand. From high above, she couldn’t hear if the blades had pierced rotted flesh so she could only hope that they had.

            Quickly, she swung inside. In her haste, she took chunks of the building with her and they thudded to the ground with discontenting crunches. The curtains, no longer held prisoner by the unrelenting glass, kissed at her exposed face like gossamer lovers. She jilted them, moving further into the room. The wind that buoyed them chased her, sweeping her hair around her face as she searched for familiarity in the empty bedroom.

            Personal knick-knacks dotted the dresser and a satin nightgown lay tangled in the sheets, but Corrin didn’t recognize anything. So, she felt little remorse as she hoisted the bed onto the floor and then positioned it so that it blocked the window. It wasn’t much, but anything to slow the thralls helped. As she darted out into the hallway, she was sure to lock the door behind her.  

            Open doorways leered as she flew past them. They told her nothing of their inhabitants, only fixed her with black, gaping grins that wished her misfortunate and misery. The hallway bent in front of her so she buried her talons into the jutting stone and hooked the corner at breakneck speed. Far behind her, the closed door began to sing out in a chorus of vicious, splintering thuds. 

            The hush of nervous voices kept her feet pushing faster and faster off the ground. Wind broke around her edges as she ran, roaring at her speed and grabbing at her with zealous hands to pull her back and slow her down. A thunderclap roared behind her and she knew that the thralls had broken through the door. The hallway fell away ahead of her and she vaulted down the steps, taking them four and five at a time, until she’d reached the landing and then she skidded across the entire length of the level floor until she’d crashed into the parallel flight of ascending stairs on the other side. Her fall molded the wood-paneled steps into a crude rendering of her torso. She shook the daze from her mind and tried to stand, but her feet slipped out from underneath her. The marble cracked under her unceremonious descent. Even through her sturdy plating, the jolt of falling electrified her spine.

            Somebody shouted her name, but she didn’t have time to answer. Across from her, on the other stairwell, the thralls leaped down the steps and left their viscous residue on the polished stairs. Their decaying forms blurred as they came after her, moving with such speed and precision that they seemed more alive than she’d ever seen.

            _They’re getting faster,_ Corrin thought.

            Concerns assailed her ears, but her adrenaline turned the individual voices to a single wash of clanging sound that flowed within the reservoir of articulated noise within her head. She could hear the shouting voices and groaning dead, but also the nervous bounce of a knee and the thrumming of fingers against a thigh. In the dark between her blinks, she could see the world around her drawn in swishing, anxious sound. Her had armor crept up her jaw, sharpening over the dense bone, and swallowed her ears.

            The thralls hit the slicked ground in squelches of spongey bone and sloughing skin. They glided across the landing just as she had, spinning and pirouetting like drugged ballerinas. As they shot past, she struck them with her talons, rending shredded tassels of rot and muscle from their bellies and chests. When they hit the stairs behind her, they exploded into messy outlines of liquidous intestines and blackened blood.

            No more thralls disappeared so Corrin carefully got to her feet. She slipped only once, but caught herself on the ledge of a step. Her hand came away dripping black blood and eviscerated brain matter. She turned for the grand staircase leading down into the foyer, but runes hissed and burned from the ground before the first step. She cursed.

            A few sloppy steps and then she leaned over the railing blocking in the landing. She scrambled over top of it, but it snapped from her weight. She tumbled into a free fall. Somebody shrieked. She tucked her knees and somehow managed to land on her feet. The shockwave decimated the tiles beneath her. Stabbing ache rocketed up from her knees at the impact. Her wince contorted her face into personified pain. The floor at the base of the stairs just beside her was gone and a tunnel of rock and dust stretched down into the earth beneath. If she’d fallen an inch more to the right, she would have tumbled into the yawning dark.

            Then, she righted herself, dusted at her torso, and looked around the foyer as everyone rushed at her with outstretched arms. She was able to pick out the warm, russet eyes of her siblings and the towering forms of the Nohrians, but everyone else was hidden by the encroaching mass. Her retainers presented her with Yato and her armor.

            Felicia said, “Jakob thought you were with Xander.”

            Corrin winced again. This time, the panging pain emanated from a twinge in her chest. She said, “Not even close.”

            She took Yato and let her draconic plating sink back into her blood. The cold nipped at her exposed skin. Her nightgown was muddied and disheveled beyond common decency. A sizable rip bared the swell of her hip and the intimacy of her waist. She did not shy from the incredulous stares despite the sizzling awareness within her cheeks. There were more pressing concerns than a clothing snafu.

            “Where were you?”

            She didn’t answer because she wasn’t even sure herself. She’d woken up in Lilith’s temple, but where she’d been before that, she didn’t know. It had felt like reality, but had been a dream, and had felt like the future, but could have been the past. All she knew for sure was that Lilith had been trying to warn her from beyond the grave.

            _And they’ll think I’m crazy if I say any of that,_ Corrin thought.

            She said, “We need to get the hell out of here.”

            And nobody protested.  

 

* * *

 

_"Hold out for as long as you can,"_  Corrin had said only ten minutes prior when she’d disappeared into the tunnel with the majority of the survivors, but Leo didn't think that it would be much longer. The thralls were making short work of their barricade. The entire façade thundered as they assailed it from the other side. Arms and legs punched through the hastily cobbled together wood and stone at random intervals. From the middle of the grand staircase, Takumi sniped at each wayward limb that he could, but they were appearing faster than even the Fujin Yumi could fire. It would only be a few moments before they tore through.

            The thralls had claimed the landing above too, but they’d since learned that they couldn’t pass through the carefully drawn runes before the grand staircase without being incinerated. Some of them had launched themselves over the banister, but they had splattered on impact and none of them had tried it since. They were smarter than the others had been and Leo feared they’d find a way down soon enough.

            Leo shot a rapid glance to the faltering barricade, but the line of soldiers standing resolute between the barricade and the tunnel in which he now stood made him pause in drawing his end of the sigil on the low rock ceiling. Their weapons were drawn. Their heads were bowed. They murmured the faintest of prayers. None of them wavered. Elise darted around their unified mass, offering numbing and adrenaline spells to each of them, but none of them accepted. He hated that she’d elected to hang back with him. And hated even more that Corrin had let her.     

            The barricade shuddered violently. A crackling blue bolt from the Fujin Yumi split an intruding head in half.

            “Elise,” Leo called.

            She turned to him. She wrinkled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. He glared at her, but returned to completing the sigil. His chalk line wavered, forking into another, as a yawn stretched his mouth. He cursed, blotting out the line with his thumb, and then set to redrawing it. He had been awake for over twenty-four hours, stooped overtop Arete’s twice-dead body, plying tendon from bone and searching for the remnants of Anankos’ profane power, until it had dissolved into a puddle of goo only a few hours prior that stained his palms black through the protective gloves he’d worn. His palms were still black. No matter how he’d scrubbed, the color wouldn’t fade.

            “All done,” Odin said.

            Leo looked over his shoulder and stared at the immaculate white lines marring the tunnel’s roof. His own etchings looked like chicken scratch in comparison. He rose up onto his toes and swooped the final curve of the sigil around the intricate designs within. Then, he connected his half to Odin’s with two crossing lines. Orange light flared and crawled with molten life around the chalked sigil.

            “It’s done!” Leo shouted.

            The soldiers released a collective sigh and turned for the tunnel. Takumi began to descend from his perch on the staircase, though he continued to fire. Leo watched Takumi land at the base of the steps with a hollow thud. Then, there was the _whoosh_ of flame and the stink of burning flesh and Leo turned to see the thralls beginning to launch themselves into the incineration runes. His breath became a knife in his throat. He fell back a step.  

            “Run!” he screamed. But his warning fell on deaf ears as the barricade alit with sinister magic. The air warped and turned before it. The runes above wore out. A flash flood of thralls cascaded down the staircase. The barricade erupted into dust.

            Soldiers knocked him aside as they burst past. He waited for a flash of blonde curls. He saw them. He followed after. He stopped at the sigil. He focused on sending the burst of magic into the slumbering stone. He heard Takumi cry out, shrill and pain stricken, through the din. There was nothing he could do. Soldiers continued to sprint past. He sent arcane sparks into the glowing sigil. They crackled across the stone. There was pushing and shoving and yelling and crying. The sparks alit in the sigil. The explosion knocked him off his feet. His elbow banged against the tunnel wall. His head smacked against the ground.

            When the dust had cleared, a pile of collapsed earth lay just beyond his feet. Magelight bobbed against the ceiling of the tunnel. He touched his hand to his head, righting his thoughts, and stood warily. He looked out over the groaning mass. The explosion had thrown everyone to the ground. A few appeared unconscious.

            His eyes darted from face to face, identifying the survivors by their haggard expressions. But his heart began to strike offbeat. Niles lay to his side and Odin was sprawled in front of him and Effie lay hunched against the wall and Arthur was unconscious at her feet and he didn’t see his sister anywhere.

            “Where’s Elise?” he demanded.

            And he saw the answer more than he heard it. The mass of soldiers rushing past. Elise’s pigtails corkscrewing in the current of air. The cry of injured Takumi. Elise, stopping, turning, heading back. The tang of magic searing through the rock. The ensuing explosion. Elise, disappearing into the collapsing rock and earth.

            Leo fell upon the rubble. His fingers split apart on the jagged rock. Crimson comet trails detailed where his hands had been. He inhaled aerosolized dirt. He exhaled steaming mania. Blazing tears cut through the grime on his face. He did not think as he tore into the collapse. He did not think as Effie began to weep. He did not think as arms wrapped tight around his chest. He could not think. Because then he would think of her sister. And he would know her fate.

            “Stop it,” Niles said.   

            Leo didn’t. Niles grunted and then Leo was pulled backwards. But he jerked free. Any then he lost his balance. He careened into the wall. His head ricocheted off the stone. His wrist crunched. A cry of pain strangled his throat. His vision tinged black and fuzzy. His ears rang.

            He scrambled to stand. His head spun. He looked at the bright eyes. He heard the crystalline sobs. He smelled the blood and the sweat and the fear and the relief. Arthur had awoken and the torment in his stare sent Leo’s gaze to the ground. The others began to stand and stretch.

            “We need to regroup with the others,” Niles said.

            He touched Leo’s shoulder. His fingers were gentle against the plating. Leo shook it off. He began to walk without a word. His footfalls were heavy. The ache in his wrist panged throughout his entire body. He focused on the pain. He let it blur out the rest of his thoughts. He was personified anguish. Nothing more.

            Odin and Niles fell into step behind him. He could feel the concern of their stares, but he couldn’t do anything but stare straight ahead. The others never surpassed his slow pace. They followed behind. Whispers and sighs announced their constant presence.

            A pinprick of light twinkled ahead of him. It was so small that he thought he could take it into his hand. But then it grew and grew until the snow-covered world stretched around him.

            Icy starlight filtered through the cracks in his denial and spread until there was nothing but reality. Leo bent over himself, gulping freezing air until his throat was raw. He retched twice, but nothing came of it. He hadn’t eaten since dinner the night before. And Elise had brought him lunch but he hadn’t eaten it. He’d been too preoccupied with Arete to even thank her. And now she was gone.

            His stomach spasmed. Gooseflesh broke across his body. He couldn’t see straight. He looked to the crowd, but saw only splotches of muted color. The smoldering silver of Corrin’s dragonstone, the burgundy of Xander’s armor, the purple of Camilla’s wisping hair, all against a backdrop of infinite white. He wished he’d come to find a world of spilt red, adorned with cooling bodies of the ambushed and killed. Then, he wouldn’t have had to hear Camilla shriek and weep and shatter.

            He’d never heard such a sound. Not even when Corrin had died. Camilla’s shriek was like a dying animal. It peeled his resolve and left him naked and bare in the winter wind. He’d let it happen. He was cold and he was hot and his guts boiled and his brain heaved.

            Camilla came for him soon enough. She grabbed him by the shoulders and carved her agony through his armor and down into his flesh.

            “You were supposed to protect her!”

            Camilla’s words were barely words. They were more like howls.

            Leo’s response was clinical. It masked the torment wrenching his soul apart. It was what he thought Xander would say.

            “She knew the risks,” Leo said.

            Camilla’s nostrils flared and her eyes were tiny pinpricks of red within a field of white and he thought, _She looks like father,_ and then she brought the back of her hand across his face. Her rings tore strips of skin from his jaw and his mouth and his cheek. They barely missed the outermost point of his eye. He could hardly feel it. Everything had gone numb. The blizzard had devoured him.

            “Please,” he said.

            But Camilla wouldn’t leave him be. She shook him and her fingers cut the blood flow from his arms and she accused him and her warm spittle mixed with his leaking blood and she hated him until his legs gave out beneath him and the only thing keeping him upright was her anger. Her eyes were feral. He thought she might kill him. He hoped she would.

            “That’s enough,” Corrin said.

            Camilla unhooked her talons from his flesh. Leo collapsed into the snow. His armor sank its fangs into the places where his body shouldn’t have bent. He stared listlessly at the gathered crowd. He didn’t see his brother and he was glad for it. Blood dripped between his parted lips. It coated his tongue. The Hoshidians huddled around each other. Their fallen brother’s name was on their lips. He wondered what that was like, to grieve together, to love each other.

            Hands grabbed at his arms. He imagined what he looked like, lying prone and pathetic. He pictured a dead fish with eyes like glass. The hands pulled him upright. He sat like a doll, top-heavy and off balance, against the steadying force of his retainers.   

            “It’s not your fault,” Niles said. But it was.

            Camilla keened. He begged the snow to fill her throat and choke the sound. But it didn’t.

            Between his sister’s sobs, he could hear the blistering mutterings of the crowd. They carried the news on tongues of sorrow. But their eyes bore and burned. They gave him no peace. They watched him break.

            Leo’s mind unhinged, memories spilled into the yawning numb. He was five, hiding in a cupboard from his mother. He was three, standing above the shattered remains of a poison vial. He was nine, running from his father’s hunting dogs. He was eight, staring at a mutilated cat. He was twelve, pulling the wings from fireflies. He was fourteen, poking at a corpse. He was two, thinking he had a family. He was seven, baring the first mark of his father’s rage. He was six, watching his mother hang. He was nineteen, slitting his wrist. He was fifteen, crying alone. He was twenty-one and his baby sister was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek!! I promise I'll get back on the Tuesday/Wednesday update schedule soon, but these past few weeks have been insanity for me! Hopefully, everything will calm down soon enough.   
> So Leo's section was difficult to write lol. The poor boy's already been through so much and I've only made it worse for him lol.  
> As always, thank you for reading and lemme know what ya think! :p


	21. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corrin keeps watch. Sakura accompanies the scouting party.

            In the withering early morning, Corrin sat high above the world. Sometimes, when the wind stopped blowing and the crested snow glistened in silent reprieve, it seemed that she could reach up and touch the stars.

            Soon, pink day would creep across the horizon and she would trudge back into camp and lead a scouting party to the burned and bloodied fortress she’d fled from barely a day past. But now, she sat beneath the cold swirls of constellations and kept watch on the black woods far below. The dark sharpened her ear so that every shifting bough drew her eye, but there was never anything to hold her attention further.

            Once, at least an hour past now, she’d watched a deer creep between the husks of trees and across the unbroken snow with a slanting gait. When it had approached the clearing below her, she had seen its affliction in the mottled skin that shone through its patchy fur and the festering sores that oozed around its snout. It had snuffled around the base of the tree she’d perched in and she’d been seized with the thought of it craning its heavy head up to leer at her with eyes veiled from hazy, delirious pain and she had known that she would leap from the heavens to cease its misery. But it never looked to her and, against the whisperings of the bitter night, she’d imagined the frenzied bugling of a doomed buck and the snap of a spine. When it had finally slunk away, lonely paranoia had risen from her belly to pinch her throat. It hadn’t abated, but she’d grown accustomed to it.

            While the winter wind tested her, Corrin wrapped her legs tighter around the sturdy branch beneath her and drove her back further into the rough bark of the towering tree. The cold sank its fangs into her fingers and toes, but it had yet to venture further. The warming sigil Leo had traced onto the back of her hand had yet to fade. Every so often, when the wind gusted and roared, it would shimmer like the coals of a roaring fire and plunge its heat into her bloodstream.

_As she slipped beyond the heat of the enchantment Odin had cast over the slumbering, shell-shocked army, Leo shambled towards her. It was the first time since they’d stopped to make camp that she’d seen him move at all, beyond the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He took her wrist without asking, chalking a rune into the smooth metal of her gauntlet. His eyes were like a doll’s, glassy and hollow. His touch was nothing at all._

_“You should sleep,” she said._

_“Speak for yourself,” he said and then he dropped her wrist so that it thumped against her thigh. He moved away, returning to his exile at the border of the camp. As he sank to the hard, freshly plowed ground with a boneless slump, she wanted to yell that she’d tried sleeping, but sleep wouldn’t take her when her arms were still so weak from the strain of comforting Camilla and the backs of her eyelids replayed her last words to Takumi. She didn’t say another word to him. She just slipped off into the night to begin her watch._

            Now, Corrin stared out over the desolate snowfalls and let her grief breathe through the stitch in her side and the squeeze of her fists and the hunger that scraped at the backs of her teeth and the sting in her eyes that she wouldn’t let blossom. It was too cold for tears and too easy to fool herself into thinking that she’d return to camp and see Takumi looking out into the heart of the forest and Elise sleeping fitfully by the fire.

            She swept her head against the trunk of the tree, snagging snarls of curls on its jagged bark, and cast her eyes to the stars. She searched for a glimpse of her youth spent sprawled on dewy grass beside a rambling Leo in the unfamiliar twinkles above, but her eyes played tricks and made poor recreations of the constellations Leo had trained her to find. There was no comfort for her, not among the bitterness of a foreign sky in a foreign land.  

            Two sets of footsteps drew near; one traipsing and lilted, the other barely audible in the cushioning snow. She inhaled once to steel her nerves and then she pushed free of her perch. She plummeted through the air, wind whistling off all her points and edges, and slammed against the ground in a spectacle of ice and snow. Quicksilver plating coated her legs and the length of her spine, absorbing the shock. Yato bloomed from her outstretched hand.

            Azura stood in front of her. Her mouth was bowed. Her golden eyes gleamed bright with terror. Ryoma loomed beside her. Raijinto crackled.

            “Sorry,” Corrin said.

            A peel of wind stole the inflection from her apology. She sheathed Yato. Azura exhaled and the coalescing steam buoyed her bangs from her forehead. Ryoma softened his stance. But he only partially sheathed Raijinto. An inch of its wicked edge caught the hollow moonlight.

            Corrin held her brother’s impassive stare until she couldn’t bare the intensity. Her fingers itched for Yato.

            “What’re you two doing?” she asked.

            Neither of them spoke. Azura’s hand came up to grasp the amulet around her neck. Ryoma’s throat bobbed.

            “Is everything alright?” Corrin asked.

            She took a step closer. Static flared as Ryoma drew Raijinto further from its sheathe. She froze with her balance strung through both her legs. She blinked. She fell back a step.

            “Where were you last night?” Azura asked.  

            Her voice was a whisper, wet from all the implications encased in her question, and the sound of it filled Corrin’s stomach with barbs. She glanced to Ryoma and saw that his cheek was pocked from clenching his jaw. Azura’s expression shook when Corrin turned back to her.

            “You won’t believe me,” Corrin said. “No matter what I say.”

            Her dragonstone smoldered like molten glass. Her breath came thin and raw. She knew better, but it hurt.

            “Where were you, Corrin?” Ryoma said.

            “Lilith’s temple,” she said.

            Her answer was received with stony silence. She looked at the white straining through Azura’s golden fingers and the way she’d angled her feet so that the heel of her left foot nestled against the arch of her right and knew how they’d attack if they deemed it necessary. Ryoma would strike first, most likely with a broad sweep of Raijinto so she’d have no choice but to fall further back, while Azura readied her voice to still the evil Corrin knew she feared.

            “I missed her,” Corrin said.

            The lie rolled off her tongue easy enough, but it left her mouth tasting like tar that bubbled and boiled and filled her head with steam until anger coursed through her veins. Her words came stunted and uneven.

            “How dare you think that I…”

            She couldn’t say it. Her eyes bled furious tears that scoured gouges across the frozen expanse of her face and she leashed her anger beneath a wave of despair that coursed through her body like poison.

            “We can’t afford the luxury of blind trust,” Ryoma said. He sheathed Raijinto and the legendary blade fizzled as tongues of lightning suffocated within the hardened leather.

            “I… of course,” Corrin said.

            Then, she mumbled the end of her watch and melded into the backdrop of snowcapped, black-limbed trees without a word of goodbye. When their gazes had faded, she tore her hands through her stiff curls, scratching her fingernails against the curvature of her skull.

            “Idiot,” she said.

            Then, she slammed her fist against the nearest tree and it disappeared within the thick bark in a mushroom cloud of splinters and pulp. A shower of fir needles fell to drape her head and shoulders in sap and the scent of winter. Durable silver hugged up to the bend of her elbow like the fine dressing glove of a noblewoman. She tugged her fist free and the tree groaned. For a second, it shifted in the wind and she thought the whole monstrous weight of it would fall overtop her. When it didn’t, she stepped from its shadow and shook the needles from her hair. They fell like raindrops on the snow.

            She drew her arm to her chest and the scales vanished. It was becoming second nature to summon and dismiss her draconic armor in a split second. She barely had to think of it anymore. When she bolstered her stance, it flared across her body on instinctive command and, when she softened her stance, it melted away like it had never existed at all. It had been a boon, but now, as she stared at the melon sized hole she’d imparted in the tree, she feared it would become something worse.                 

            While the silent woods shuddered around her, Corrin made the short walk back to camp and shoved her buzzing thoughts away with the memory of the monstrosity she’d seen in the dream, vision, _whatever,_ Lilith had sent her whose very presence had caused the earth to tremble and the air to tear. The light of the camp began to glitter across the snow and, as heads whipped towards her heavy footfalls, she thought, _Is that what they see when they see me? A monster?_

She crossed into the gentle glow of the firelight and offered a timid smile to any that met her eye.

            _I’m not a monster,_ she thought, but doubt shivered across her body like the raging cold. Azura’s terrified eyes danced in her memory. She took her dragonstone and shoved it beneath the collar of her armor. It pressed into the hollow of her throat and squeezed her breathing.

            “Lady Corrin,” Jakob called.

            She turned to his voice and found him crossing the sea of sleeping soldiers. He didn’t take care to avoid stepping on any that he leapt over and she watched many wake up in disgruntled alarm as he pulled their hair or jabbed their torsos with the heel of his boot.

            “Did you get into a fight with a pine?” Jakob asked when he came to stand before her.

            He dusted residual needles from her shoulders and she let him, though she grimaced in stark embarrassment. He reached up and pulled a twig from her hair that breached from the curls like an extension of her ear. Then, he swatted her on the nose with the sharp end and said, “Don’t go wandering off again.”

            Corrin rubbed at the bulb of her nose and glared.

            “I wasn’t wandering off,” she said.

            Jakob scowled and made to hit her again with the twig, but she caught it before he could strike her. He hummed and released it so that it dangled from her clenched fingers.

            “Yours now,” he said. “Treat it gently.”

            She launched it out into the snow with a _tsk_ of disgust. Then, she turned to find his brow arched and his mouth wrinkled. He said, “I’ve set up a comfortable place for you to sleep.”

            He gestured to a spot closer to the fire where Kaze and Felicia hovered and pretended to be doing anything but intently watching their conversation. Beside Kaze and Felicia, Hinoka sat on curled legs with her arms pulled tight around herself and stared deep into the fire. Sakura sat at her side, holding her staff in her lap with white knuckles. The light cast by the flickering flames caught in the lines of Sakura’s face and hardened the soft swells of her face into unflinching granite.

            “I’m not tired,” Corrin said.

            Jakob’s placid expression dropped into a personification of the frigid wastes the Ice Tribe called home.

            “You haven’t slept since the attack,” he said.

             “I’ve gotten some rest here and there,” she said with a shrug.

            She sent her gaze out over the camp, taking a tally of everyone present, asleep or otherwise. When she reached twelve, Jakob said, “Blinking does not count as rest, Lady Corrin.”

            Corrin sighed. She put on her best, honest smile by pressing her lips together and quirking one side of her mouth.  

            “I’m a big girl, Jakob. I’ll be alright.”

            Jakob scowled and then part of his cheek dimpled as he sucked the inside of his mouth between his teeth. She hadn’t seen him do it in years, not after Gunter had berated him in front of all the servants for it so long ago.

            “I promise I’ll be fine,” she said. “I really don’t want to give you another opportunity to be right.”

            He rolled his eyes and huffed, but she could almost imagine a smile on his face beneath the gruff demeanor. He sounded the beginning of a snide response, but someone else was calling for her attention and he fell silent at the competition.

            Laslow walked up beside her and said, “Xander wants to speak with you, Corrin.”

            Corrin nodded and turned to dismiss Jakob, but saw that his momentary mirth had withered.

            “You’d do well to address Lady Corrin by her proper title,” Jakob said.

            His glare was as sharp as his throwing knives. Laslow blanched and forced a nervous laugh.

            “Oh, right. Sorry about that,” he said.

            She shook her head and said, “It’s alright. Where’s he at?” 

            “I’ll show you,” Laslow said and he jutted his chin towards the back of the camp. Jakob clicked his tongue and the sharp sound trailed behind Corrin as she followed Laslow through the maze of sleeping soldiers.

            Laslow led her beyond the warmth of Leo’s enchantment to a copse of trees barely in view from the camp. Xander leaned against the tallest of the bunch with his arms crossed, watching her approach. When she’d drawn close enough to distinguish the fine features of his face, she saw that his cheeks were flushed a ruddy red from the cold. No warming rune glowed from his figure. Laslow had stopped short of addressing Xander. He only inclined his head and then fell back a few steps until he was out of earshot.

            “You’re going to catch frostbite,” she said.

            “The cold helps clear my head,” he said.

            Then, he looked past her to the dancing shadows of the fire. The tension between his brows told her he’d alit on either Camilla, crying silently by the fire, or Leo, huddling in exile.  

            “I’m going with the scouting party,” he said.

            She shook her head. The cold inched beneath her clothes. The warming rune on her hand sputtered with the light of smoldering coals. She said, “No, if something happens to me—"

            “All the more reason why I should go.”

            His eyes had snapped back to her. She matched them with her own.

            “You have a country waiting for you,” she said.

            “Corrin—"

            He said her name, softly, like it meant something. She couldn’t look at him so she crossed her arms and scuffed her toe against the squelching snow instead.

            “It’s too much,” she said. “Even for you.”

            “Your brother…”

            She thought of her father, riddled with arrows and betrayal, and her mother, eviscerated by bits of shrapnel and broken building.

            “I can handle it,” she said.

            The cold prodded at her tense muscles, making them jump and jitter until her entire body began to shake. He shook his head. He said, “It’s not right.”  

            “That doesn’t matter anymore.”

            He dropped his gaze.

            “I won’t stop you if you want to go,” she said.

            At his solemn nod, she turned and hurried back to camp, telling herself that she wasn’t running away. When she’d crossed the boundary of heat, she saw that Azura and Ryoma had returned. Neither looked her way.

            “I hope you made good decisions,” Felicia said when Corrin had reached her.

            “If you honestly think that I would…”

            And her words were slithering anger, but she saw the gloss of Felicia’s expression and took her remark for the lighthearted jab she’d intended it to be and fell silent. Corrin sat quickly, but the glance Felicia exchanged with Kaze was not lost on her. She spent the rest of the nighttime hours pretending to sleep and hoping that the day would be as gentle as it could be.

 

* * *

 

            Sakura hadn’t wanted to go, but only five healers had survived the invasion. She had no choice. She trudged through the uncaring winter in the grey of day alongside the few who had volunteered to return. Fear mangled all their faces. Some were better at hiding it than others.

            Corrin took point, but her steps were shaky. Her face was painted in musings of grief. Xander followed just beside her, his footsteps falling in diagonal tandem to hers, and Sakura hated that he had joined them. He looked too much like everything that was wrong in her world. But the fist that gripped her heart squeezed tighter when she looked at Corrin. Blame came too easily and curdled the spit in her mouth.

            Without the wards to shield it from view, the fortress loomed high above the plumes of snowcapped trees. Fat curls of black smoke rose into the sea of wisping clouds above. The sun was spiteful overhead. Its rays let nothing hide from sight.

            The snow crunched under Sakura’s feet. Each shattering flake was a knife in her stomach. The weeping silence around her was an arrow between her eyes. She wanted to feel nothing, but everything hurt. Her mind was an open wound.

            The party crossed through the gates and Sakura trailed behind until she couldn’t afford to anymore. Everything beyond the gates smelled like fresh kill, but there was nothing but frozen swaths of blood across the virgin snow.

            “Stay alert,” Corrin said. Her words sounded autonomous without a scrap of emotion beneath.

            Sakura stepped in the footsteps of those before her as they moved through the burnt remains of the huts where families had slept and the market that had been bustling with life and vigor only forty-eight hours prior. There came the sound of shattering glass and a yelp of surprise, but it amounted to nothing more than a misstep made by a distracted soldier. When Sakura drew past where the sound had originated from, she saw a porcelain doll with a head like a broken plate inside a wide boot mark and she wished she had not let Ryoma sleep. She wished she had shaken him until her arms weakened and begged him to accompany the party until her chest collapsed. Among the bones of the place she had once considered a kind of home, she had never felt more alone.

            “Why would they take all the bodies?” one of the soldiers asked, but Sakura knew why. The ranks of the army of the dead had swelled. Her eyes burned and her stomach boiled and then she was on her knees in the snow, retching like she could expel the tragedy from existence.  

            Her thoughts twisted with the imagined sound of her brother’s voice made hollow and haunted and the conjured vision of his head wreathed in unholy flame. Her cheeks grew wet and then stiffened in the cold. The frozen tears tore at her sensitive skin.

            The snow crunched beside her and firm, pointed metal came to rub at her back. Her tears came interspliced by twanging hiccups.

            “Just breathe,” Xander said and Sakura hated him for comforting her, but hated Corrin even more for doing nothing. When her sorrow had abated, she stood without the aide of his outstretched hand and looked to her sister with red-rimmed eyes and saw that Corrin gave no concern to her. Her sister’s gaze was pointed towards the smoldering remains of the tavern.

            “Keep moving,” Corrin said when Xander had returned to her side.

            The rest of the fortress was much of the same. There were bits of flesh and guts and pools of blood, but no bodies. Beside the soot that had once been Corrin’s treehouse, there was a single severed finger, but there was no telling who it had once belonged to. And then Sakura crossed the threshold into the fortress itself behind all the others. And she saw Elise.

            The Nohrian lay in the center of the foyer with her eyes pointed to the heavens. Sizzling magic encased her. Strips of flesh had been shorn from her fingers to her elbows like creeping, swirling tattoos. The tile beneath her was coated with the dark ruby of her lifeblood.

            “Why?” Sakura asked. But nobody heard. They rushed for Elise, clambering over each other to reach her.

            Sakura stood still, staring with bleary eyes as Corrin threw herself against the barrier and was flung back by the repellant force with an echoing _pow._ When Corrin bounced against the ground, the magic dissolved above Elise and Sakura could hear pitiful, soggy breaths.

            “Don’t touch her!” someone screamed and Sakura was moving forward on rigid legs that swung pedantic beneath her. Her feet dragged through the viscera covering the floor like it was water. Her nose twitched from the tang of blessed healing. Her ears burned from a rasped, _brother,_ and then from a choir of sobs. Hope sweetened her tongue.

            Sakura stood above the knelt mass and, as they moved Elise’s prone, pale body into Xander’s shaking arms, she saw the treasure Elise had risked her life and sacrificed her magic to protect. The Fujin Yumi lay bloodied on the desecrated tile. Its knotted curve had cut a lacerated crescent into the smooth flesh of Elise’s back. And Sakura shoved through the crowd and touched her trembling fingers to the sleeping weapon and knew that her brother was truly dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh, I'm so sorry I'm a week late updating!! Everything got super crazy super fast and I didn't get a chance to finish writing this chapter until today!! I don't really have much else to say since my brain is fried but, as always, I hope y'all enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think!! :)


	22. Hush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corrin makes a house call. Kana goes hunting.

            The wind whipped shrill and hollow over the blood-stained grass below. Even through the strong walls and solid glass, Corrin could hear its fierce howl. The war council had let out only moments prior. Too many wanted to stay.

            Corrin slammed her fist against the table, once, twice, three times. Finally, it buckled beneath the force of her assault with a crack of splintering wood.

            It had been five days since the invasion.

            “Lady Corrin.”

            Corrin turned with a twinge of shock and saw Beruka looming in the doorway. Corrin held her teeth tight together. She hadn’t heard the other woman approach, or even the door open. She smoothed her hand out over the fissure in the table as if the spread of her fingers could hide the crack.

            “I tried to stop her,” Felicia said. She winced in from the hallway, over the assassin’s shoulder.

            “Lady Elise is awake,” Beruka said.

            Corrin forgot about broken table.

            “Take me to her,” she said.

            Beruka set off without another word. Corrin followed after, breezing past Felicia and commanding the maid to find her fellow retainers.

            As she passed open doorway after open doorway leading into empty bedroom after empty bedroom, Corrin could hear the wind rattling the windows like the souls of the damned begging to be let in. Her dragonstone pulsed against her skin. It had yet to fall quiet, even though the rest of her had settled into numbness.

            Beruka led her down the stairs, rolling over them like smoke. Corrin took the steps two at a time to keep up. She thought of Elise and the strips of raw, bloodied muscle and bone that had adorned Elise’s hands and forearms like fine lace gloves and the stink of putrefied flesh and festering wounds that had spun her thoughts like a top and the glittering streams that had dripped off Xander’s face and the brittle keening that had emanated from Sakura but had been taken up by the entire party and the croak of Elise’s high voice that had been etched into her skull.

            Corrin had not seen Elise since the day she’d been rescued and, even then, it hadn’t been for long. As Xander had taken Elise into his arms and the healers had squabbled over the girl’s condition, Corrin had bolted through the rock and ruin with hope striking her heart like bursts of lightning.

            But her brother hadn’t been there.

            By the time she’d returned, Xander and the healers had moved Elise and the rest of the party had set out to call back the remnants of the army. Except for Sakura, who had fallen to her knees in the dried blood and clutched the Fujin Yumi to her chest. And who had fled the moment Corrin had begun to descend the stairs.  

            Now, Corrin crossed the landing of those same stairs, only she did not descend, but crossed through to follow Beruka into the other half of the fortress. She spared only one glance down into the foyer and watched her shadow caress the dried viscera. Each puddle of blood could have marked the spot where her brother had fallen. She looked away. She focused on the sound of her footsteps and the hallway looming ahead. Soon, she heard voices.

            “You can’t really think—”

            “I can and I will.”

            Corrin recognized the whispered fervor and rounded the corner unsurprised to see Leo and Camilla. They both turned to face her and animosity lingered around the corners of their mouths. Leo’s face was hard and pointed. Camilla’s was lined and tired.

            “How’s Elise?” Corrin asked.

            Leo stared through her. The burgundy of his irises was thin and cold. Camilla smiled, but it cracked around her eyes.

            “She’s okay. Go ahead in. We’ll be in in a second,” Camilla said.

            Corrin nodded. She moved for the door, hesitating a split second to search Leo’s face, but there was nothing. He hadn’t spoken a word to her in days.

            Corrin went through the door and shut it gently behind her.

            Elise sat in a bed that lay flush against the window. Pillows and blankets bolstered her spine. Her arms were wrapped in thick gauze. Her hair hung free and loose around her face. The youthful bounce in her face had withered to nothing but jutting bones. A notebook lay open in her lap. Corrin could make out the squiggles of a flower as she drew nearer. It smelled like antiseptic and cloying vanilla.

            “How—”

            Corrin fell silent and paused midstride as Elise raised a slow finger to her mouth. Corrin sent her gaze across the room until it fell on an armchair at the far end of the room where Xander sat with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were closed. His face was unlined. His chest rose and fell in peaceful swells.

            Corrin snapped her gaze back to Elise, but Elise only stared. There was too much in her stare so Corrin dropped her eyes to the floor. She crossed the room with delicate steps and then took a seat beside Elise. The bed creaked enough under her weight that she turned towards Xander with a wince. But he didn’t stir.

            Something small and hard poked at her elbow before she’d torn her gaze from Xander’s slumbering form and then her vision swam in white paper and black scratches. She blinked and leaned away until the scratches became, _Heavy sleeper._

The words vanished as Elise set the notebook back in her lap.

            “What?” Corrin whispered.

            Elise only stared. She pointed to Xander.  

            “Ah,” Corrin said. Her chest twinged. The whispers that Elise had been stricken mute had hung like cobwebs in the corner of every conversation since she’d been rescued, but Corrin had held out hope.

            _This is all my fault,_ Corrin thought, but she whispered instead, “He’s going to be mad when he wakes up.”

            Elise tilted her head. Her eyes were blank.

            “He missed the war council.”

            Elise righted her head and then took to scribbling in her notebook. She held the pen at an awkward angle between her thumb and pointer finger, like she could hardly bear the small weight. When she’d finished, the page read, _You missed him?_

Corrin shook her head quickly, but it was the truth. The notion was ridiculous. It always had been. It had just taken the destruction of her home and the murder of half her army and her brother for her to realize. In fact, thoughts of ill-fated romance had been the furthest thing from her mind since the invasion. Only the night before, when she’d laid awake and haunted, had she thought of how lonely she was and the thought of him had crossed her mind. But it hadn’t stayed.

            “How’re you feeling?” Corrin whispered.

            Elise shrugged. She took to scribbling in her notebook again. Corrin frowned, but hid it by biting her lip. Elise began to slowly flip through pages in her notebook and Corrin saw her own name scrawled in big, bolded letters across an entire page before Elise flipped past.

            As she waited for Elise to find whatever she was looking for, Corrin leaned against the wall, laid her head against it, and stared out the window. There was nothing in the courtyard far below. The treehouse that had once been her bedroom had been torched to a crisp. Only the scorch mark of where it had stood remained.

            Corrin stared at the soot stain and thought of the requisition orders signed and the correspondence penned at her desk, of the laughs and grimaces she’d shared with her retainers, of the hours she’d spent lounging in front of the window and watching the activity in the courtyard, and of the nights spent making small talk with Orochi until exhaustion lulled her to sleep. She wondered what Orochi would say of her dreams now when all she saw in her sleep was death and destruction. She had dreamt of Shirasagi burning and Ryoma impaled on his own sword and Azura dissolved into blazing blue light.

            A shiver broke across Corrin’s back and it continued to shudder as Elise began to scribble in her notebook again. Corrin read over Elise’s shoulder and saw the beginnings of a person rendered in hasty scratches and uneven lines. Corrin bit her lip until the skin was raw under her teeth.

The door creaked open and Corrin looked up to see Camilla tip-toeing into the room. Her hair hung low and limp over her eyes. Her mouth was twisted and wrinkled. She looked ancient as she offered a meager smile. Then, Leo reached in to slam the door shut behind her.

            Corrin jerked her head into the wall as the angry sound echoed. In the corner, Xander jolted awake. He looked at her with wide eyes just as she looked to him, but she didn’t hold his gaze. She rubbed at the back of her head.

            “Leo!” Camilla shouted. Then, she assailed the base of the door with a wild flurry of kicks. Eventually, she slowed and then stopped altogether. She fluffed her hair, sighed, and turned around with a watery smile stretching her lips.

            “Leo says hi, Elise,” Camilla said.

            The straining emotion on Camilla’s face kept Corrin from questioning why she and Leo had been arguing. She knew it had to do with Elise.

            Camilla crossed the room and sat on the other side of Elise. She touched her hand to Elise’s shoulder and then kissed the top of her head. Elise didn’t pause in her scribbling. The inked person had gained a hooked nose and a forked mouth.  

            “How long was I asleep?” Xander asked.

            His voice was rich with sleep. Corrin didn’t look at him. She watched Elise add a scraggly beard to the crudely drawn figure.

            “A long while,” Camilla said. “You slept right through the war council.” 

            Camilla took Elise’s hair between her hands and began to weave the wavy strands together. Stripes of purple flashed as Camilla braided. Once, Corrin had helped Elise dye them in, but that had been years ago. Elise had been stubbornly independent for a long time.

            “What? Why didn’t you—”

            “Shush,” Camilla said. “I’m getting a migraine.”

            Elise had begun to detail armor in rudimentary shapes. Corrin watched as she inked the beginnings of a sigil on the spaulder, but Xander called her attention away with an exasperated sigh. She looked to him as he rubbed at his face. When his hands fell away, she could see his irritated frown.

            “You didn’t miss much,” Corrin said. “It was just a big argument.”

            “It’s always a big argument,” he said.

            She looked at him and he looked at her and she found that she had nothing more to say, but he was still looking at her like he did and time turned to taffy and she could feel her heartbeat in her tongue and then Camilla cleared her throat loudly and wetly and asked, “Is there anything we should know, darling?”

            Corrin forced a cough into her fist and turned to the other woman. The room seemed hotter. The smell of antiseptic had grown nauseating. She said, “Most of the soldiers want to stay here.”

            Elise was still drawing, but she’d shifted in such a way that Corrin couldn’t see the expanded image.

            “And you don’t?” Camilla asked. She’d finished braiding Elise’s hair and left her work to hang down over Elise’s shoulder. The plaits were frayed and uneven.

            “We’re defenseless without the wards,” Corrin said. The response was autonomous. She’d lost count of how many times she’d voiced her argument since the invasion.

            “Where would we go?” Camilla asked. She’d taken to rubbing at Elise’s back as the girl hunched over her notebook. A chill stabbed at Corrin’s chest at the sight. Elise hadn’t let Camilla be so doting since she’d been very young.

            Corrin looked out the window as she said, “Gyges.”

            “Bless you,” Camilla said.

            Corrin scowled, but Xander spoke before she could explain to Camilla.

            “The army’s in no shape to launch such a campaign,” Xander said.

            The wind broke against the window and rattled the glass. The sky was a frigid blue striped with shreds of gray clouds. The sun drifted lazily towards the horizon, taking the light of day with it. The more the winter season asserted itself, the more Corrin felt like she was trapped in the Northern Fortress again.

            “We either attack now or we’ll be killed off in our sleep,” Corrin said.

            The sheets tugged beneath her and a foot kicked against her thigh as Elise curled into Camilla’s arms. Elise’s mouth hung open and tears oozed from between her squeezed shut eyes.

            “Hush you two!” Camilla said. “You’re upsetting Elise!”

            Corrin bit her lip. She dug her fingernails into her palms until it hurt. Then, she saw Elise’s completed drawing. A poorly drawn man stared up at her with swirling black eyes. The Hoshidian emblem blazed from his right shoulder. A horned headdress adorned a mane of wild hair. She hovered her fingers above the paper, sensing its presence, but not daring to touch it. Her throat burned.  

            “Xander,” Corrin said. She hesitated in continuing. Memories from her youth were hazy at best. There was a good chance the recognition she’d had was completely off base.

            But the Hoshidian emblem was too much of a coincidence for it to be nothing.

            “What is it?” Xander asked.

            Corrin waved him over. In the seconds it took him to cross the room, she picked up the notebook like a dirty sock. He reached for it without her passing it to him. She wondered what else Elise had drawn. 

            “Do you remember my father?” she asked.

            Xander’s brow furrowed. He looked at the drawing. He said, “She never met him.”

            “I know.”

            She snatched the notebook back from him and tore the page free. Another drawing glared up at her from where the doodle of her father had been and she swallowed thick and viscous at the sight of it.

            It was as poorly drawn as the previous, but she could identify the figures by the fine details: the worry lines between Xander’s eyebrows, the shape and make of Ryoma’s armor, the strands of hair hanging down into Leo’s eyes, the permeating scowl on Takumi’s face, and the dragonstone that dangled from her own throat. A broad, slashing x had been drawn overtop Takumi’s chest.

            “Corrin—”

            But Corrin leapt from the bed and brushed past him.

            “We can’t stay here,” she said.

            She crossed the room with quick strides. She opened the door and closed it behind her while Camilla hummed sickeningly sweet lullabies to Elise. In the silence that ensued, she leaned back against the door and stared at the drawing. Then, she brought it to her chest and pinched her eyes shut. She tried to think of her childhood before her father’s death, but there was nothing.

            When she opened her eyes, Beruka peered out from the shadows across the hallway. Corrin grimaced. She set off down the hall in search of Ryoma, thinking of all the ways to soften the blow.

 

* * *

 

            As murky purple twilight stretched across the horizon, Kana crouched beside Shiro in a bit of dried brush and breathed down the front of his shirt to keep himself warm. The snow had melted a few days ago, but it was still just as cold as it had been and Kana hadn’t been able to get a warming rune from any of the mages because Shiro hadn’t wanted to draw any attention, especially Siegbert’s.

            But Kana was freezing and he didn’t care at all about whether they drew attention to themselves or not because Siegbert was definitely going to notice they were gone and Corrin probably would notice too and she was going to be really angry! Two days ago, Kana had tried sneaking off because he’d gotten so sick of Soleil and Shigure’s glaring and Shiro and Siegbert’s bickering and Corrin had caught him and she’d really been upset with him. Like, chewing him out in front of everyone upset.

            And Kana knew he shouldn’t have snuck off again, but he wanted to be a cool, tough guy like Shiro and he’d thought sneaking off to hunt would be a really good way to kick off his cool career, but now he was freezing cold and regretting his decision.

            “You wanna try this time?” Shiro whispered and he nudged Kana with the grip end of his spear. Kana shook his head. He wasn’t a big crybaby like Siegbert when it came to hunting, but he’d already tried once to throw the spear and all he’d managed to do was spook the deer he’d been trying to hit. Spears were too clunky for him!

            “Your loss buddy,” Shiro said.

            A deer snuffled through a meadow ahead of them and Kana had to stop watching it twitch its tail because the sight of it made his mouth water. Food had become scarce and the preserves in the fortress were quickly running out. Today, he’d gotten by on a nibble of hard cheese and some stiff jerky. The day before, he’d had even less even though everyone kept trying to give him extra food and it was really starting to piss him off!

            He may have been one of the youngest ones left, but that didn’t mean he deserved to be babied! He’d even said as much that very morning, but Siegbert had scolded him for bring ungrateful and Kana had called him a know-it-all because he didn’t know how else to insult him and Siegbert had called him a selfish brat and Kana had cried even though he’d tried really hard not too and Shiro had stuck up for him and Shiro and Siegbert had yelled at each other until Shiro had called Siegbert a rotten princeling and Siegbert had told Shiro to crawl back into the gutter and Kana had never known Siegbert to be so mean, but the last few days had turned everyone mean, and Shiro had tried to punch Siegbert but Siegbert had scrambled away and everything was so bad but it was kind of okay now because the quiet of the forest helped to clear the muck from Kana’s head and he could almost pretend that everything was fine and that he didn’t feel sick to his stomach.

            Now, beside him, Shiro stood with a grunt and sent his spear careening through the air. There was a squelch and an explosion of hooves on hard ground and then a blur of fur came barreling through the brush. The deer nearly took Kana out except he fell to his belly and rolled out of the way just in time. The deer ran a few more feet, spurting warm blood that coated the dirt, before it fell over. It gave one final mewl and then Kana could see the glossiness of its eye.  

            Kana crawled towards it and his belly rumbled, but his hunger only shrieked louder when he saw the deer’s withered snout and maggoty flesh. He smacked his hands over his mouth and pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger to keep the hot garbage smell out of his head.

            “Shit,” Shiro said. He set his foot against the deer’s neck and tugged the spear loose. The deer’s skin and fur sloughed off underneath Shiro’s boot. Shiro cursed and dragged his boot through the grass. Kana pointed his eyes up to the stars overhead and tried to think of things that weren’t rotted and bloated. Eventually, he said, “They’re all gross.”  

            “Seems like,” Shiro said.

            Kana sighed. He pushed his hands against his eyes and rubbed.

            “Let’s head back,” Shiro said.

            It was quiet all around him and Kana didn’t like the stillness, but he didn’t have anything to say to break it. Shiro had led them into a stretch of forest that Kana had never been in before, but it had been easy for Kana to keep close to the fortress. Even among the sappy trees, he could catch the creak of rotting floorboards and the spongy smell of life on the winter wind.

            Kana trotted ahead of Shiro and followed his nose and looked at all the icicles dripping off the branches. He liked the way the sun caught in them and made them shine like diamonds. He stretched up for one, but his fingers only grazed the bottom of it. Then, Kana watched strong fingers break the ice free. He turned to Shiro, but Shiro pressed the icicle against the nape of Kana’s neck before he’d completely turned around. The cold made Kana’s teeth hurt and Kana yelped and darted away.

            Shiro snorted. He held out the icicle for Kana to take and Kana glared at him, but he took it anyway. Then, Kana chucked it against the ground and it shattered, but the pieces didn’t shine like he’d hoped so he just stomped down on all the bits as he walked over them. He didn’t say anything and neither did Shiro.

            Soon, the fortress loomed high above the trees and the iron wrought gates reached for the sky. Kana squinted and then fell still. He said, “Wait, someone’s there.”

            He pointed to a figure standing just before the gate.

            Shiro scowled, but he only said, “C’mon.”

            As they drew nearer, Kana could smell shaving cream and lamp oil and he tugged on Shiro’s arm, but Shiro didn’t stop. He kept going and Kana scurried after him until he could see the figure’s leathery skin and he whispered Shiro’s name, but Shiro just ignored him. Then, Gunter stepped out from the shadows and asked, “Catch anything?”

            “Nope,” Shiro said.

            He moved forward, but Gunter stuck a lance into the ground between his feet.

            Kana saw Shiro’s fist clench and he realized that his own were clenched too. There had always been something about Gunter that Kana didn’t like. He didn’t know what it was, but it always made him uneasy. His mama had always told him stories about the old man because he’d died the year before he’d been born and he’d always thought of Gunter as a great hero and he’d been really excited to meet him but Gunter was a real jerk! He’d told Soleil that she was stupid and had smacked Siegbert upside the head when he’d accidentally knocked over a bunch of empty vials in the infirmary and Kana had even heard him threatening to throw any misbehaving troops off the barricades!

            “You have blatantly disregarded an order from Lady Corrin to remain in the fortress,”

Gunter said.

            “And?” Shiro asked.

            He didn’t look scared at all. In fact, Kana thought he looked a little bored with the whole thing. And Kana knew that Shiro probably wasn’t scared of Gunter because he was so much bigger than the old man, but Gunter was much meaner.

            “And you are peculiar, unnatural children,” Gunter said. He over exaggerated every word so that it felt like a slap in the face.

            Gunter drew his lance from the ground and pointed it at Kana. The point of it hovered just in front of his right eye. If he sneezed, he would have impaled himself on it. Kana could taste his heartbeat.

            “Do not test my patience again,” Gunter said. He lowered the lance.

            Kana nodded quickly and grabbed Shiro by the arm and pulled until the older boy stumbled after him. Kana could feel Shiro’s rage clenching in his muscles, but he kept pulling and running until they’d reached the inside of the fortress and Gunter was nowhere in sight. And he felt a little better, but the floor was still spotted with blood and guts and it made him queasy.

            “That guy’s a real dick,” Shiro said.

            Kana nodded in agreement, but it was more than that. He knew Shiro hated bullies and he liked to think that he was just like Shiro when it came to bullies except that he was smaller and less scary than Shiro, but Kana also didn’t think of Gunter as a bully. He thought of Gunter like an enemy because he seemed to be the only one who knew that Kana and his friends didn’t belong.

            “C’mon, Kana-roo, let’s go see if anybody noticed we were gone,” Shiro said and he slung his spear over his shoulder and smiled like everything was gonna be okay. And, for a second, Kana really felt like it was. Then, he heard someone shout, “Where the hell were you two?”

            He turned and he saw Soleil standing at the top of the steps with her hands on her hips. Her face was really red and angry. Kana glanced at Shiro and watched him roll his eyes.

            “We were out hunting,” Shiro said.

            Kana nodded and tried to set his face in the same cool expression as Shiro’s by wrinkling his lips and flatting his brow. But Soleil must’ve really hated the look because she flew down the steps two at a time and then she walked right up to Shiro and said, “You’re so stupid!”

            Then, she whirled on Kana and shouted, “And so are you! Siegbert’s worried himself sick looking for you two!”

            Kana’s stomach burbled. He’d thought Siegbert would just be mad, not worried. Worried Siegbert was definitely worse than mad Siegbert. Kana had once seen Siegbert get so nervous and worried that he’d passed out in front of the Hoshidian delegation.

            Shiro snorted.

            “Serves him right,” Shiro said.

            Soleil glared at him and Kana thought maybe she’d hit him, but he was glad when she didn’t because it only would have made him feel worse.

            “Corrin said that we’re heading out soon. He thought he’d have to leave you behind,” Soleil said.

            Kana’s throat seized up and his face felt all hot and splotchy.

            A gaggle of soldiers passed through the landing. Their voices were loud with stress as they lugged lumpy satchels on their backs and stumbled as fast as they could across the fortress. Kana heard one of them say, “This is fucking ridiculous.”

            Normally, Kana would have been excited to hear such harsh language, but this time it made his stomach harden up like a rock. He didn’t listen to the soldiers anymore, even though he could’ve.

            “I’m sorry, Soleil,” Kana said. He toed a crack between the tiles that tugged on the sole of his foot each time he passed over it.

            “Don’t apologize to me,” Soleil said.

            Her hands were on her hips again. Her mouth was all drawn up in a scowl. She looked ready to nag his head off. Then, she deflated until her arms smoothed out and her mouth was just barely a scowl.

            “Let’s go,” she said. “Siegbert’s probably pulled out all his hair by now.”

            Kana winced, picturing Siegbert without his mop of hair. He’d look like a really ugly Wind Tribe wannabe.

            Soleil turned for the steps and Kana followed after, but stopped once he’d reached the base of the stairs and realized that Shiro hadn’t followed. When he looked, Shiro was gone.        

            Kana scowled and he pulsed his hand into and out of a fist and he had the thought that maybe Shiro wasn’t as cool as he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess all my author's notes are just gonna start with apologies for awhile because I keep falling behind in updating! :(  
> Things have calmed down in my life and I was able to sit down and write this chapter and the next two. I'm really pushing to get it together and continue updating fairly regularly because one of my weaknesses in the past has definitely been letting updates sneak up on me and failing to stay on top of them!  
> This chapter marks the definitive departure from the canon timeline of events because the next few are more or less me integrating the Valla I've created even more strongly into the progression of the story. Hopefully, y'all will enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed putting all the pieces together in creating something new lol.  
> I'm sorry again for the delay! I hope y'all continue to enjoy!


	23. Affliction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corrin deals with being sick. Leo scouts. Kana tries to eavesdrop.

            Corrin awoke to the world with blurry eyes. Her body was a symphony of aches. The tiniest twitch of her finger sent chills coursing through her veins. Swallowing was agony. When the fever took hold, reality and imagination intermingled in a collision of color and sound. The healers had tried to give her medicine, but she’d refused. They barely had enough as it was.

            Blazing fire greeted her. Black smoke clung to the rafters and ascended through the holes in the roof. Water dribbled from the beams in lazy drops as wayward snowflakes continued to drift in. It had been snowing long before she’d fallen asleep.

            Corrin and the wayward band of stragglers that still followed her had come across the cottage, sitting empty and forgotten in the middle of the wilderness, when the snow only dusted the grass. It had been over two months since the invasion and it was the first time she’d allowed them to stay put for more than a week. The sickness had forced her hand.

            The cottage was a squat building of unremarkable design. Years without inhabitants had worn holes through the exterior. The décor inside was quaint, consisting of simple, hand-carved furniture. A faded painting of a man and a woman had hung above the bed. The man wore a high collared coat and the woman wore a red, wrapped dress and a veil.

            Corrin had found the happy couple moldering in the cellar soon after, a rusted dagger between them. Despite the blizzard, she’d seen to it that they were properly laid to rest. The painting had been kindling for the funeral pyre.

            From there, she had ordered the cellar raided for reserves and then had set to dismantling the furniture for firewood. The sickness had settled in as she slept in shelter for the first time in over a month. She’d lurched awake from a nightmare of her brother throwing himself off the ramparts of a tower to find that she couldn’t breathe without coughing.

             The scouting party had been decided after she’d been confirmed as one of the many sick. She had argued for her inclusion despite her illness, but she had been unanimously overruled and she’d been too bleary to fight back.

            Now, she twisted upwards, doing her best to ignore the bone-deep ache, and coughed into the crook of her elbow. When the cough had passed, her throat was raw and her mouth was dry. She sniffed and tried to recall her dream which, for the first time in a very long time, had not been a nightmare.   

            _There was a boy,_ she thought. _We were in a garden._

            It had been an idyllic fantasy until the thorn of a rose had risen to prick her finger and the boy had cried at the sight of her blood. He had thought she was dying. The tears from his ruby eyes had been crystalline. The sunlight had been drowned.

            She remembered little else.

            “How are you feeling?” Jakob asked.

            He hovered beside her, having come to her side the moment she’d awakened.

            “Better,” she said.

            Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

            He nodded.

            “I’ll prepare your tea.”

            He moved from the fire and retreated into the shadows.

“Thank you,” she said, but he didn’t seem to hear.

            She stretched her hands out before her and felt the stiff muscles strain to flex. She undid her braid so that her hair hung full about her shoulders.  Then, she took to twisting it around itself again. She tied it off with her black ribbon when she’d finished. Her body shook though she willed it to stop.

            Kana slumbered at her feet. His breaths were ragged and his forehead was dotted with sweat. Every so often, a cough roused him into shifting and kicking and twisting, but he never woke up.

            She rubbed his back and wondered if he could even feel her touch through the mountain of furs swaddling him. His friends had sacrificed their warmth for his without question, much like her retainers had done for her despite her feeble protests.

            A voice peeped up above the crackling fire.

            “If I don’t return before nightfall, don’t bother searching for my body,” Leo said.

            His voice was barren and, when Corrin shifted to catch sight of him standing before his sisters, Camilla sitting against the wall and Elise swaddled in her lap, she saw his eyes were dull blips of crimson set in a face of hard lines.

            _He’s so cold,_ Corrin thought.

            Leo said something else, but the words were lost to the pounding in her head. She rubbed at her eyes. The haze ebbed. She watched Leo move from the light and sit against the wall with Niles.

            In the dark, their hands intertwined and her throat constricted.

            Corrin snapped her gaze to the couple standing beside them.    

            Azura’s hair seemed alive in the flickering light. Her arms were wrapped tight around her chest. She sniffed.

            Corrin watched as Laslow coaxed Azura’s hands from their death grip on her arms and then took hold of each. He traced circles into the back of her hands with his thumb.

            Corrin only knew they were finally together because she’d passed them whispering sweet nothings to each other a few days prior.

            Azura had not spoken to her since that night in the woods, but Corrin had not sought her out either.

            “Please, just come back,” Azura said.

            “I will,” Laslow said. “I promise.”

            Corrin watched Azura lean forward to kiss him. She watched Laslow curve into her, closing the small gap between them. She watched Azura’s fingers wrap so tight around his that her bones jutted beneath her delicate skin.

            Corrin turned from them. Her head hurt.

            “Mama?”

            Kana whimpered, but he was still asleep. His face contorted in anxiety. His breaths came as rapid pulses. His legs kicked out from beneath the blankets and, for a moment, she feared he’d dash them through the coals of the fire. She tugged him away, pulling where the blankets had piled, and he stirred with a twist of his torso, but he didn’t wake.

            She rubbed at his back. She worried he dreamt of his mother’s death.

Kana sniffled. He pulled at his blankets. Again, he whimpered. An instinct of fondness motivated her hand to sweep through his silvery hair. Her hand came away damp with sweat, but she drew her hand along his scalp again.

            _He’s too young to feel how I feel,_ she thought.

Heavy footsteps shook the floorboards. The vibrations reasserted her aches and her headache. Her fingers froze around a strand of Kana’s hair. She glared up at the perpetrator and found Siegbert. His fine features were drawn in pointed alarm. He dropped to his knee. She drew her hand back.

“Is Kana alright?” he asked. He pressed the back of his hand against the younger boy’s forehead.

            “He’s just having a bad dream,” she said.

            Siegbert kept his hand against Kana’s forehead. His thumb rubbed against Kana’s hairline. Eventually, he withdrew.

             “I think you’re right,” he said.

            “He’ll be pretty upset if he gets you sick,” she said.

            Siegbert stared down at Kana. His eyebrows knit together. Distinct familiarity tickled her thoughts, but she shook it off.

“Please let me know if he gets any worse,” Siegbert said.

            She nodded. He stood. He returned to his friends, whispering an update of Kana’s condition.

            Soon, Jakob came to kneel where Siegbert had moments before.

            “Here you are,” Jakob said.

            He handed her a cup rimmed with painted red roses and delicate blue birds. She tried not to think about the cup’s previous owners as she took a tentative sip though a phantom laughter lingered in the back of her skull.

            The tea burned her tongue. She glared at Jakob.

            “It’s hot,” he said.

            He took a seat beside her. He drew his legs beneath him so that he sat properly flat-backed.

            Corrin rolled her eyes. She held the steaming cup tight in her hands. The warmth was nice.

            Her gaze roamed, but there were only hushed conversations and strained goodbyes to behold. A few of the afflicted stared hazily and mumbled to themselves, but they didn’t hold her attention. She let her stare drift until it came to land on the same man it always did.

            Now, in the corner of the room across from her, Xander sat with his legs long in front of him. Shadows cast by the firelight smoldered across his face and she thought of all the illustrations she’d seen of priests from the time of the Dusk Dragon who’d painted their faces in gold and ash.            

            Her head buzzed as he wrapped his wrist methodically, weaving the gauze around and then between his fingers. His dominant hand had already been swathed and flashed white each time it appeared from beneath the other. She watched him until the heat of the fire drew moisture from her eyes and she had to blink it away.

            When the blink had passed, she chanced a sip of her tea, but it was still too hot. Steam curled into her face. Her fever made her head fuzzy.  

            Two days ago, he’d told her that she needed to get better soon because he missed her smile and she hadn’t stopped thinking about it since but she also didn’t know what to make of it because she didn’t know what to make of anything he did anymore. 

            But she was sick and she was loopy and she imagined it to be what she wanted and it was easy to ignore all the reasons her infatuation was a bad idea when her thoughts were thin and sugary and her hands didn’t feel like her own. 

            During her momentary distraction, Xander had finished wrapping his hand. Now, he flexed his fingers before curling them into a fist. Then, he took the excess gauze trailing from his wrapped hand between his teeth.

            Enraptured, she watched him lower his hand, pulling the strand of gauze taut. She coughed when the tickle in her throat became unbearable. His eyes snapped to hers. A pang chilled the small of her back. The gauze tore.

            His stare receded, fixating on the task of respooling the gauze.

            “Close your mouth,” Jakob said.

            His voice was not quiet and, in the haze of illness, she had heard him speak with her brother's voice. Corrin slammed her mouth shut so suddenly that her teeth clicked. Her surprise jostled the tea in her hands. It spilled across the floor and the floorboards flushed dark brown. Jakob tsked and set to cleaning the mess.

            She chanced a glance at Xander and thought she saw a smile. Her face burned so she buried it in her hands. Then, a cough took hold of her and she hacked until it had passed. It took all the fight out of her and she laid back amongst the blankets and the floorboards.

            “Wake me up before they leave,” Corrin said.

            Jakob hummed, but she was too fatigued to question his tone. In the discomfort of her illness, she let fantasy console her into tepid sleep.

 

* * *

 

            As Leo plunged through the snow, nearly losing his balance every time he raised his foot to move forward, he stared at the glistening backs of the rest of the party before him. The blizzard had calmed, but the snow continued to accumulate, standing to his midcalf. It made everything look slippery and cold. Every step, he pictured himself slipping and falling and never rising again as the winter rose to cover his body. He had always loathed the snow, but he had been one of the few mages that had been able to stand. Illness had claimed all the others, even Odin.

            Leo rubbed at the warming rune on his shoulder and scowled when it only provided a faint blip of heat. He didn’t know how long he’d been out among the ice. The minutes had blurred into hours with the sight of every looming tree and every bite from the blistering air.

            Through the shimmering flakes and the roaring wind, Leo could barely make out the shape of his brother towering above the others, but he could always hear the barking orders to push forward, to keep an eye out for new shelter, to mind his business, to stay away from Elise, to be better in his head no matter how he resisted them. Even at such a distance, he wasn’t safe from the will of his siblings.

The wind howled. Everything was too strong. Snowflakes graced his eyelashes, melted, and dripped off. His lips cracked and blood welled in the fissures. It was warm and raw on his tongue.

            There was a tickle in his throat, but he knew better than to cough and to welcome all the swirling, freezing mania into his lungs. Corrin may have let sickness overwhelm her, but he never would. He’d let the disease rage in his blood and reduce him to ash before he’d let it win. He’d never be his father.

            Leo shivered and Niles yelled something to him, but the wind was too furious and it stole the sound. He didn’t ask Niles to repeat himself. Earlier, when Niles had taken his hand and held his fingers tight and firm and kneaded the worry from his wrist, he’d entertained the thought that maybe everything could be okay.

            Maybe Elise would surpass her trauma and learn to speak again. Maybe Camilla and Xander would forgive him. Maybe Corrin wouldn’t be consumed by the darkness encircling her head like black winged carrion-eaters. Maybe Leo could be loved.

            But the winter had opened his eyes to the truth of the world and he knew that the sins of his father had shattered them all beyond repair so that their edges no longer meshed and all they could do was pretend they fit together and that he was the most mangled of all and they would always resent him for it.

            A crack exploded near his head and he whirled to watch a snow laden bough collapse from the side of a soaring pine. It sliced through the air, spraying an avalanche of snowflakes into the open air and whistling in its descent, until it met the ground. A fog of snow obscured the world and dusted Leo’s hair with pinpricks of ice.

            Shouts of concern erupted everywhere.

            He squinted through the shimmering cloud to make out the rest of the party, but there were only liquidous blobs of movement and falling snow.

            He couldn’t make himself speak. His voice had vanished from inside his skull. There was just hollow instinct and the pang of something gone wrong.

            Then, there was the hiss of drawn metal and the clang of battle. His hands drew Brynhildr, but his tongue was knotted. His feet lifted and moved without his command. He broke through the fog and saw the mismatched fur and leather of his party clash with the jet-black of another.

            His nose twitched with the tang of magic. His lips summoned Brynhildr. His hands directed it out. But the ground was hard and frozen. The roots strained to break through and they drank his vigor. He saw his brother knock away attacker after attacker. He heard the snap of a bowstring. He saw an arrow streak through the falling snow. He heard it meet flesh. He watched his brother falter.

            Brynhildr burst from the ground, but it swallowed open air. Someone screamed and smoke filled the sky. It smelled like burning flesh.

            He didn’t see Niles anywhere.

            Hands grabbed him from behind, pulling at his arms and kicking at his legs. He stood resolute. He called for Brynhildr. Its roots snapped, catching his attacker, but continuing up to strip armor and flesh from his back. The pain was iridescent. His tongue tasted like metal. He fell forward into the freezing embrace of the snow.

            A boot pressed into his arm, bending the joint down into the earth. He inhaled snowflakes. They froze his chest.

            He heard a mumbled incantation between the throbbing in his skull. Blazing restraints ensnared his wrists and snaked around his mouth.  

            “Test him,” someone said.  

            A hand buried itself into his hair and embedded agony in his skull. His body was alive with the stab of a thousand knives and the sting of every poison. He smelled sage. The light faded from his eyes and, as he faded with it, he thought he saw his mother cavorting bent-necked in the snow.

 

* * *

 

            Kana hated being sick. He hated how sticky his skin got and how everything he ate tasted like snot and how his head felt like it’d been kicked by horse and how he was hot and cold at the same time and how everything looked like it was fuzzy and how everything sounded like it was underwater and how his dreams were always yellow or green and made no sense whatsoever.

            Once, when he’d been a little kid, he’d gotten so sick that he threw up everyday and felt like all his bones were melting and his mama had rubbed his back and sang him lullabies and read him stories until he fell asleep and he hadn’t been really sick since then and he would rather have been stung by ten million angry bees or broken all his bones or go to balls and wear really ugly shoes that pinched every day for the rest of his life than be sick.

            But he was sick and Jakob had said that his fever had broken an hour ago, but that stupid butler didn’t know anything because he didn’t feel any better except that his head wasn’t stuck in a whirlpool anymore!

            And nobody wanted to talk to him because they didn’t want to get sick and even Siegbert stayed far away from him so as Kana had to sit by himself by the fire while all the other sick people sneezed and coughed and did all the gross stuff sick people do around him.

            “You won’t get any better if you sit around pouting,” Jakob said.

            Kana only jutted his lip harder and crossed his arms tighter and he wished, not for the first time, that Jakob would explode into a billion little pieces and leave him alone forever. He hated Jakob just as much as he hated being sick.

            “I can’t just sit here,” Corrin said except her voice was all stuffy so she sounded like she had pinched her nose when she spoke.

            She stood with Ryoma and, even from so far away, Kana could tell how sick she was. Her eyes were a puffy red and her skin looked like a candle and she stood at an angle even though she stood at her full height. Kana had tried to join her earlier, when she’d first walked to the door to talk to Ryoma, but Jakob had told him to stay put or he’d throw him into the fire and Kana knew he’d do it so he stayed put, even though he was really annoyed about it.

            “You’re in no condition to do anything but sit,” Ryoma said and Kana watched Corrin screw her face up in anger, but then something grabbed him by the top of his head and pushed it down until his neck bobbed and his teeth clacked together and his eyes stung. His attacker let go and Kana rubbed at his sore head. He let his lip wobble, but didn’t let his tears fall.

            When his hot tears had gone away, he lifted his head and glared.

            “It’s rude to eavesdrop,” Jakob said and he wiped at the hand he’d used to grab Kana with a handkerchief. Then, he threw the handkerchief into the fire.

            Kana watched the flames eat holes through the lace and he said, “It’s even ruder to be a jerk!”

            Jakob rolled his eyes. Kana glared and then he stood and wobbled a few paces away. He sat down in a spot on the other side of the fire where he couldn’t see Jakob unless he wanted to. His nose was runny so he wiped it on his arm, hoping that Jakob was watching. But when Kana looked, Jakob had gone to stand with Corrin.

            Kana looked around, but everyone was either sick, asleep, or gone and there wasn’t much to look at. He did see Shigure stand up and go sit by Azura and he was glad that Soleil was asleep because Kana knew she would have torn the entire cabin apart with her bare hands just to beat her brother to death with all the bits of wood.

            Even though Kana knew that Soleil and Shigure’s mom hadn’t been the best, he still couldn’t really understand why Soleil was so against Shigure talking to her. The more he’d thought about it, Kana had come to realize that he was on Shigure’s side of the whole argument because he knew that he’d want to meet his mama too if he’d never known her.

            It also made him all the more convinced that he needed to tell Shiro about his papa, especially since he’d spent a lot of time watching Ryoma and had noticed a lot of similarities between him and his friend.

            They both talked with their hands a lot and made the same face when they thought someone was being stupid, like they’d bit their tongue but they didn’t want anyone to know, and they even laughed the same way by throwing their heads back and laughing from their bellies. Though, Kana had only seen Ryoma laugh once and he didn’t know whether because he was a really serious person or because Takumi had died.

            And Takumi’s death made Kana really worried that Ryoma was going to die now too. He was also really worried that something really awful had happened to Elise because what if that meant no one was really safe and anybody could die?

            What if his mama and papa died and he was never born? Would he turn into dust and never get to go home?

            He’d tried asking Siegbert about it, but Siegbert had just said they’d be fine because they weren’t really from this world and Kana already knew that because his mama wasn’t fighting with Nohr, duh, but Kana hadn’t exactly been convinced because Siegbert had done that thing he did whenever he lied where he made his face real serious and scrunched his eyebrows really tight.  

            And Siegbert only ever tried to lie to him because he could never get away with it with anyone else because he was so bad at it and sometimes Kana went along with his lies because he wanted him to feel better about himself. Except for this time because Kana really wanted to be sure that he wasn’t gonna disappear but Siegbert wouldn’t say anything else.

            The possibility of disappearing was a tough thought for his young brain, especially when it was riddled with icky sickness. It made his eyes hurt.         

            Kana sighed and he flopped back onto his back and stared up through the holes in the ceiling. It wasn’t snowing much anymore so there was nothing but black, cloudy sky overhead.

             Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, he heard someone shriek outside except it cut off suddenly. He rocketed upright.

            He looked at Corrin and he watched her throw open the door and the whooping winter wind blasted in and blew her hair back and everyone around him was scrambling for their weapons and he could hear Siegbert yelling at people to get out of his way and Kana stood, but everyone was pressing in on him and then something small bonked him on the head and he turned his head up to the ceiling and he saw someone staring down at him from the black.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a little disjointed, but I'm trying to avoid this ending up around 80 chapters long so I'm cutting down the fat between arcs and just steaming ahead. We'll see whether that pays off for me in the end or not lol.  
> I hope y'all enjoy! <3


	24. Foregone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corrin gets a blast from the past. Sakura reflects on the situation at hand.

            Corrin sat in coalescing shadows and stared through the bars of a rotted jailcell. The only light came from a lone torch hidden from view. The illuminating flames licked the base of the bars, but she could not reach them. Her ankles and wrists were wreathed in heavy, banded iron that bound her to the wall behind her.

            She’d tried escaping only once, when she’d first woken up to discover her imprisonment, but the cuffs were inlaid with the same snarled vine that the attackers had pressed into her forearm to sear the fight out of her. The moment she’d summoned her draconic plating to break her chains, it had stung her into nothingness. When she’d awoken, she’d had a newfound bloody nose, a migraine headache, and a cloth gag between her teeth.

            She hadn’t seen anyone since she’d fallen during the attack, but the dark sharpened her ear. She could hear hushed breathing around the corners of her cell and scurrying footsteps high above and water slithering through pipes and muted laughter and creaking doors and it felt like the fortress she’d called home, but there were people that shouldn’t have been and everything was wrong.

            She wasn’t home and she didn’t know what had become of the others. She only knew what had become of Anthony, the boy she’d saved in the ravaged village so long ago.

            _They caught him easily, though he tried to flee in the chaos. She latched on to his swerving form in the falling snow, mistaking his little footsteps and fleeting cries for Kana’s._

_The black clothed attackers snatched him by the shoulders. They threw him to the ground and he screamed. They pressed a boot into his chest and he flailed like a shot fowl. They touched him with hands lashed in silvery vines and he screeched until the corners of his mouth tore and his eyes gushed black tears and the snow turned to mud around him._

_Then, purple flame. The swish of a blade. The loll of a head._

_They kicked out her legs as she watched, not understanding, not believing, and forced the same herbal poison onto her. It eviscerated her consciousness the moment it touched her._

            Now, her fever crawled hot and slobbering up and down her spine and, sometimes, she lost herself in the froth and saw her mother reposed in the dusty corner with cobwebs for a gown and shrapnel for a crown or her brother sitting beside her on the hard stone and crying black, spidery tears or the ground swelling with a flood of bloated bodies with familiar faces or herself, sitting hunched and shaking with her hair fraying about her grime-buried face and blood caking the crevice of her elbow and around her wrists and over her lips and inside her mouth and—

            Corrin made herself stop. She squeezed her eyes shut until there was nothing but the sweltering dark of her eyelids. She conjured levity through grainy memories of her family and of her friends, but they fractured around the sacrifices and failure that dominated her life. Scalding tears and wobbling breaths were the only defense she could muster against the rib-crunching desolation.

            When she opened her eyes, nothing had changed. She was still bound and still sick and still alone.

            Trickling water glistened over the walls around her and birthed mold in the cracks and crevices. The smell of it singed through the drainage in her nose until it had filled her lungs with must and wet rot. She coughed and the gag bit into the sides of her mouth. She had tried chewing through it, but the exertion had worn out her jaw.

            Her legs panged where the hard-stone seat dug into them so she shuffled to stand. The chains clanked and her muscles throbbed, but she managed to stand upright, even as her sight fuzzed into heavy blackness.

            She walked as far as the restraints would allow, careful to keep from accidentally touching the poisonous plant wrapped around the outside, and then bent to stretch out a cramp in her hamstring. Methodically, she addressed each of her aches and pains until they were a little quieter. When she’d twisted and rolled all the stiff joints she could manage, she wobbled back and sat down.

            More than anything, she wanted to embrace her exhaustion, but, when her fever loosened its grip, electric worry flooded her nerves and kept her jittery. Not enough time had passed to deaden the fear of her companions’ unknown fates. With each dripping second, she feared their demises had been the same horror as Anthony’s.

            Deep in throes of acidic anxiety, Corrin heard new footsteps strike up a fast pace in the hallway. Her ears twitched to the tempo of them, but the cadence was wholly unfamiliar. They came to a clipped stop just beside the bars of her cell.

            “Has anything happened?”

            The speaker’s voice was like aerosolized honey, but the smoothness of their voice only made their accent more pronounced. Corrin hadn’t heard such an accent since Lilith had died.

            “She tried to break her chains, but the dragonsbane knocked her back out,” a new voice said, but their accent was Nohrian through and through.

            _Am I hallucinating?_ Corrin wondered, but, no, the bars rattled before her as the cell door swung open.

            A lithe figure moved to cast a stark silhouette against the moldering brick. In the poor light, Corrin could make out little beyond a considerable length of swishing hair and the fissures of wrinkles deepening the shadows on their face.

            As they stalked forward, fear flittered bright and wild inside Corrin’s chest. She stiffened her hands into fists and raised them. Her dragonstone thrummed against her chest, aching to be set free.

            Then, the figure began to hum.

            Corrin flinched as the tune swelled, but she was powerless as the melody became a haunting refrain. Her arms drooped.

            The figure was on her in a split second. They touched their palm to her forehead and she saw only crows’ feet around the watery yellow of an old woman’s eye before a savage jolt of agony stripped the sensation from her flesh and drowned her reality in a churning riptide of memory that moved so fast, each relived instance was only a blink of devastating emotion and sensation. It was a monsoon of relived memory.

            She saw the wind and the snow melt and break around the anger steaming off Takumi’s stiff form and felt her skin tingle from Sakura’s narrowed stare across the hot springs and cringed at the _smack_ of Gunter catching the ball she’d thrown to him and shrank from Silas’ voice, gentle and clear, saying that he could never be what she needed and smiled as Camilla clapped her hands together with a trill at the prospect of planning a party and felt her stomach stiffen as Xander’s dusk hued eyes fell on the strewn cotton guts of the dummy she’d disemboweled and then the tide of hurtling memory ebbed to a single scene.  

            _Corrin’s eyes were wet and stretched wide as the mad scout imbued raging power into her veins. The plating on her arm sparked with purple lightning. The magic urged her to accept its embrace with a swell of vitality that buoyed the shaking muscles in her legs._

_She looked at the mad scout and then she was looking through her into the microscopic world of tumultuous sound. Her insides shrieked against the onslaught of infinite noise._

            And Corrin fell out of that memory and back into the typhoon of memory that surged within and through her at breakneck speed. Through the rolling torment, she could feel the withered hand of an old woman guiding the current and prying the nerve endings from her mind.

            Her past flashed in quicksilver segments of sensation.

            A jolt of passion struck her back as Silas’ hands brushed underneath the hem of her shirt and revulsion crawled along the base of her belly as her foot disappeared into a maw of sopping mud and her nose stung from the wafting stink of immolated flesh and her knees ached from the blow of driving Niles into the dirt and her shoulders stiffened in a cold sweat as Azura recounted the truth of her father’s demise against a backdrop of steely night sky and then the flood slowed again to allow a new scene to breach in its entirety.

            _Mingled night and day faded above her and then she was unraveling._

            _Her flesh was a bundled knot and it was being undone by the tug of a single thread. Her feet were the first to go, thinned immediately by deft hands. Quick work was made of her legs, but one of them was already torn at the seams. Her torso came apart in a tornado of pulled thread and her arms dwindled soon after. Everything from her neck up was undone in a single snap of the thread._

_Without the barrier of her skull, the essence of her being spilled free. It twinkled like a newfound nebula._

_When she lay in pieces and everything she was bobbed freely in the ether, a hand reached into the hollow that had once been her chest and plucked out her heart. It did not hurt. In fact, it didn’t feel like anything at all. She wondered if she was dying_

_She watched her heart vanish into the abyss of black, but thought little of it. As her essence drifted farther apart, she began to fade. Her sight softened at the edges with honeyed dark._

_She was not afraid. Her vision dwindled until there was only a pinprick of twinkling light, high above._

_The twinkle streaked towards her, but she heard it more than she saw or felt it. It whistled as it tore through the blanket of eternal night._

_Before it collided with her, she caught a glimpse and saw that it was her heart, laced with scar tissue of molten silver._

_She opened her eyes._

_Rain pattered on her face. Boiled ozone assaulted her nose. She sat up and the fine bones in her back cracked and shifted. Her siblings and the Nohrians lay sprawled across the floor._

            Corrin sank from the bizarre, forgotten memory into the blurring beginnings of the war and the splattered entrails of her childhood. She had lost the ability to reason or think. There was only her zooming, thrumming, unrelenting memory.

            She was batting Faceless into dust with every sweep of her tail and she was lecturing Kana and his friends for demolishing the archives and she was darting through the smog filled streets of Cyrkensia and she was clutching Sakura as the battle at Fort Jinya drew to a close and she was turning from everything she knew among the tall blades of grass that shimmied like cat tails and she was weeping as her mother fell still in her arms.

            The motion of her mother leaping in front of the explosion and falling to the concrete looped twice and distantly, Corrin could hear a sighing breath.

            But the blitzing remembrance continued without pause, storming past so quickly that entire years swelled and vanished faster than seconds could pass.

            She was trembling before Garon and she was failing to impress Gunter in combat yet again and she was chasing Leo up the grand staircase of the Northern Fortress and she was sitting on the ledge of her window to watch the sun dip beneath cotton candy clouds and she was nursing an injured bird back to health and she was gasping as Camilla told her about the extravagance of the capital and she was skipping her history lessons to kiss a squire in a broom closet and she was falling asleep watching Xander train far below her window and she was trying to find herself in faded portraits that looked nothing like her and she was teaching tiny Elise to make crowns from long pieces of grass and she was refusing to speak and she was crying as Iago came towards her with a bloody vial and a long syringe and she was thrashing against tight restraints that lashed her to a table and she was screaming herself hoarse until the slick, rapid memories thickened into something fully formed.

            _Stars had begun to pop up in the sky as Corrin toddled over freshly laid road towards a tall bush covered in wispy, pinkish flowers. When she’d reached it, she snatched a blossom from between the spiky leaves and held it up to her nose to take a big whiff. It smelled like the soap her mama used to wash her hair._

_“Hurry up, Corrin!” Ryoma cried. His voice was high and scratchy and Corrin hated when it got like that because it meant that he was cross with her and he’d scold her for all the bad things she’d done, even if she hadn't done anything at all._

_Corrin turned to scowl at him, but squealed as she was swept up off the ground into loving arms. She squirmed, but her papa held her tight._

_When she’d stopped wriggling, her papa brought her to his side and booped her on the nose with his pointer finger. She giggled and presented him with the flower she’d picked. His smile was big when he took it from her with a small bow of his horned head._

_Corrin bounced in his grasp while he crossed the courtyard to rejoin the others. When he’d stopped, she stretched up for the mounted horns, trying to touch the pad of her middle finger to the point of one of them. Her papa tilted his head back with a chuckle so that her goal was just out of reach until he’d set her back on the ground._

_When she looked up to him, she had to squint because of the bright streetlamps to see him undoing the buckles underneath his chin. Then, the heavy helmet was on top of her head. It slipped down to cover her eyes and mussed up the pretty braids her mama had done before she’d left, but Corrin didn’t care because it was cool and it smelled like her papa’s spicy cologne._

_“Father, we’re going to be late,” Ryoma said and Corrin could hear his foot tip-tapping._

_“Patience, Ryoma,” Sumeragi said._

_Corrin peeked out from beneath the oversized helmet and watched her father hand off the flower she’d picked to her brother. Ryoma took it with a scowl._

_“You could stand to learn from your sister. Enjoy the smaller things in life,” Sumeragi said._  

            _Ryoma grumbled something under his breath and his face was almost as grumpy as Yukimura’s had been when she’d knocked his big stack of books into the koi pond, even though it had totally been an accident… kind of._

_“What was that?” Sumeragi asked._

_Ryoma scowled and scuffed at the road with the tip of his boot._

_“Nothing,” he said._

_Sumeragi fixed him with a hard stare and then moved to speak with one of his retainers._

_When her papa was far enough out of the way, Corrin sped up to Ryoma’s side, keeping her papa’s helmet from slipping over her eyes with one hand._

_“Hey, Ryoma,” she said, but he ignored her._

_She tugged on his sleeve and poked at his shoulder until he whipped towards her with a nasty frown. Then, she screwed up her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him._

_Ryoma glared at her and turned away with a huff, but she wasn’t done. She kept assailing his arm and chanting, “Hey, Ryoma,” until her brother raced off to their papa and cried, “Corrin’s annoying me!”_

_Sumeragi rubbed at his forehead and flapped his hand loosely in Corrin’s direction._

_“Corrin, stop tormenting your brother,” Sumeragi said, but his voice was choppy and distracted._

_Corrin tilted her head at her brother, but Ryoma only shrugged so she tottered closer to hear what the adults were saying._

_“It’s not like Kiko and Ryu not to report back,” someone said._

_Corrin didn’t recognize their voice and she didn’t see who it was because the whole group had clustered around her papa and it was hard to tell who was who. She leaned closer, but Ryoma elbowed her back. She glared at him._

_“Something is very wrong,” Saizo, one of her papa’s retainers, said._

_Something twisted in Corrin’s stomach and she saw that Ryoma felt it too because the rosy anger had drained from his cheeks._

_“I know,” her papa said and then he was taking his helmet off of her head and buckling it back on his own._

_The air had begun to smell like eggs and the time she’d tripped down the steps and cut up her knees really bad. She clamped her fingers over her nose._

_“Saizo, take some of the guards and see the children back across the border,” her papa said._

_Her eyes started to fog up. Her lip wobbled. Ryoma took her hand. He squeezed tight._

_“But—”_

_“Now,” her papa said sharply._

_Tears spilled down Corrin’s face as Saizo bowed stiffly to her papa. She didn’t want to leave her papa all alone!_

_Saizo reached for her and Ryoma, but she ducked under his arm and ran for her papa. She latched onto his leg just as a rush of wind blasted her hair back and a bunch of people appeared at the other end of the courtyard. They all had drawn bows._

_“Papa, what’s—”_

_But her papa touched the top of her head and peeled her from his leg. She fell to her knees, trembling as her papa stalked forward. He drew one of his blades and pointed it to the strange people._

_“Garon!” her papa shouted and Corrin hated the sound of that name. She’d met Garon only once, when she’d been an even littler girl and the fighting hadn’t started yet, and all she could remember was his creepy smile and the way he’d wrenched his son’s arm around when the boy had tripped on the rug._

_“What is the meaning of this?” her papa shouted now._

_Corrin shook so bad that she thought she would shake apart. Her skin was cold and clammy and she wanted to run, but she’d forgotten how to use her feet._

_“Fire at will!” someone shouted and then the air was full of twanging bowstrings and whistling arrows and everyone around her was screaming and Corrin screeched as the arrows thunked into her papa._

_Her papa sunk onto his knees. He stuck his sword in the ground and his arm bounced as he held onto its hilt._

_A monster stepped from the line of archers and came towards her papa. It carried an ax that was much bigger than her. Its sharp points were shiny in the moonlight._

_Her papa wheezed and the sound was like the time she’d swallowed a bunch of water in the bath and had coughed until it had all come back up. She didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t stop her head from moving._

_The monster stepped closer until it had almost trampled her papa and she saw that the monster was really Garon and her hands came up to scratch at her face. She’d never seen anyone look so mean._

_“I’m disappointed in you, Sumeragi,” Garon said. “This wasn’t even my best trap.”_

_The sharp ax rose up and then it came back down and she knew it cut her papa even though she’d tumbled over so that her forehead was pressed into the hot road because she’d heard him scream and she’d never heard her papa scream before. Her tears gushed into her mouth and they were so salty and slimy that she sputtered to spit the gross taste all over the ground._

_“You poor thing,” Garon said and he sounded like all the demons that had chased her through her nightmares._

_“Such tragedy, at such a tender age.”_

_The ground shook with his footsteps. She knew he was coming for her, just like he’d come for her papa. Her knees knocked together and her fingers twitched against the road._

_She didn’t know what to do. She wanted her papa to scoop her up and run her to safety and even though she knew, deep down, that he wouldn’t get up ever again, she lifted her head to look at him._

_But he lay flat and still._

_And Garon stood over top of her._

_Corrin looked up into the awful sunken eyes of the monster that had killed her father and a little, pitiful sob bubbled through her lips. His big, massive hand reached for her face and, as her nose squashed hard against the grimy leather of his glove, he said, “You’re mine now.”_

            And the old woman lifted her hand.

            Reality returned with stabbing clarity and Corrin was so much older and bigger than she had just been that her senses went berserk. She could see every mote of dust floating in the air. She could hear the sticky breaths of everyone in the vicinity of her cell. She could feel the tiny vibrations in the stone from the hordes of rats that snuffled in the dark. She could taste the heat in the air. She could smell the saliva in the old woman’s mouth.

            Corrin collapsed to the ground. Suffocating anguish radiated from within the very soul of her being. Every breath was panging nausea. Her dragonstone smoldered with an intensity that scraped at her marrow.

            The guards rushed in and Corrin saw the bleary shape of threadbare Nohrian crests blazing from their shoulders. She blinked and they remained. Her head raged. She bent in half, curling in on herself, even though it was nothing short of agony to do so. She wept until she could barely breathe because of the gag and her streaming nose.

            The air smelled like intermingled tar and blood. They’d just finished laying the road the night her father had been murdered. She’d forgotten the smell, forgotten the first time her heart had been clawed from her chest, but she remembered now.

            The old woman had made sure of it.

            In the encroaching dark, Corrin looked to the closing bars and saw the smeared, hazy outline of her father, standing with his back to her. His helmet was nestled in the crook of his elbow. His back was studded with the points of a hundred arrows.

            Her throat tore as she screamed for him just like she’d screamed for him as a little girl, all those years ago.

            His form began to waver and she forgot herself.

            She lurched forward, against the chains and against the poison the guard had called dragonsbane, and called forth all the power lying dormant in her veins to reach him. Her might surged throughout her body and her draconic gifts rose from her blood to meld into perfect, unstoppable armor and to intensify her strength.

            But the dragonsbane was stronger. It shredded her armor and simmered her blood and liquefied her thoughts until she lay in a miserable, contorted heap on the dirty floor.

            Her father vanished entirely as her eyes twitched shut.  

    

* * *

 

            Presented with the first hot meal she’d seen in months, Sakura found that she couldn’t quite stomach the thought of any food. She tore the soft, warm hunk of bread she’d been given into two halves, stacked a steaming strip of bacon on each, and nudged everything onto Hinoka and Ryoma’s shares.

            They didn’t notice. They were too busy lamenting the situation.

            “None of this makes sense,” Hinoka said.

            She rubbed at her temples. She’d taken a knife to her hair the night before and had sawed uneven chunks off. She looked like a dandelion that had been half blown away.

            “We’ve lived without sense for too long,” Ryoma said.

            His voice was thick and nasally. His nose was tinged red and his eyes were puffy. Whatever had been passed around the group had finally taken hold of him.

            “I just hope Corrin’s okay,” Hinoka said.

            Sakura watched Ryoma nod stiffly and a lump ballooned in her throat.

            The first thing Sakura had heard when she’d awoken on the hard, unforgiving ground in a foreign great hall was Ryoma’s broken voice and, bit by bit, she’d come to realize that he was conveying the story of Corrin’s most recent abduction.

            _“They kicked out her legs and they held that awful root to her and she screamed and screamed and I… I was too slow to stop it_ ,” _Ryoma said._

_Sakura rolled over onto her side. Her vision narrowed for a moment as her head spun, but it returned just in time to see two steaks of liquid silver break through the muck on her brother’s dirty face._

_“We were all unprepared,” Hinoka said, but her nose was too wrinkled for it to be sincere._

_Ryoma looked towards Sakura. She tried to smile at him, but his eyes moved past her, sweeping the room behind her. She turned to look with him and found nothing of note. As she watched him drop his head into his hands, she realized that Corrin was gone and, just barely, she heard him say, “How many times must I fail?”_

_Something snapped just inside her ribcage. She looked at her brother and her mouth was filled with acid and her eyes were drowning. She wanted to rend his misery from him the way she’d always stolen away his physical hurt, but nothing would ever be enough because everything was wrong._

Now, Sakura shifted to sit on her hands to stop them from scrunching up. The pressure only made them ache more.

            As her siblings fell silent, she glanced around the room, but there was nothing beyond dour meals and hushed whispers. Even her surroundings provided little stimulus. The walls were gray stone and the floor was gray stone and there were no furnishings of any kind except for several great tables that had been pushed to the corners of the room and a large fireplace that raged against the far back wall. The air smelled vaguely of onions, but there’d been none served with the bits of food they’d been given.  

            For a moment, she watched Azura sitting hunched against the wall by the fireplace and watched long enough to wonder why she’d opted for solitude. The war had frayed the once strong relationship Sakura and her siblings had had with Azura, but, usually, Azura still hovered close to them, even chiming into conversations every once in a while. Yet, since the invasion, Sakura hadn’t seen Azura speak a word to anyone besides Laslow.

            Though, now that she thought about it, she remembered watching Azura and Ryoma slink off into the forest soon after the invasion, but she hadn’t noticed them interacting since. She wondered what had happened out in the winter wastes, but she wasn’t curious enough to ask. The last thing she wanted was to learn of another messy falling out between friends.

            And, like an eternal punishment, Sakura caught upon Camilla and Elise, taking in Elise’s solemn stare and Camilla’s wistful expression, but it hurt too much to stare beyond a quick glance, more than it ever had.

            _It was the day after they’d returned to the fortress and Sakura stood in the doorway of Elise’s quarters. She’d heard that Arthur and Effie were turning everyone away who tried to visit, but they’d opened the door the moment she’d stepped into the corridor._

_“She’ll be happy to see you,” Effie had said, but she’d been wrong._

_Elise didn’t look happy at all. In fact, she didn’t look like much of anything. Her face was a child’s imitation of what Elise had once looked like and she as gaunt as the famine victims Sakura had once tended._

_“Well, this is unexpected,” Camilla said, but her voice had lost all the slink it had once been abundant in. She sat in an armchair beside Elise’s bed and toyed with a fraying strip of fabric. It looked like her hair was falling out._

_Sakura ignored her. She made herself look at the hollow, vapid imitation of Elise and demanded, “Why did you do it?”_

            _Elise only blinked her dewy eyes._

_“Why did you—"_

_Sakura’s voice broke in a bubbling sob. She gulped it down. It was like a knife had sliced up her insides and made them hot and runny._

_“Why did you try to save him?”_

_Globs of tears glistened in Elise’s eyes and Sakura could imagine herself, wild and weeping, reflected in the luminous spheres._

_“Answer me!”_

_But Elise didn’t. She just took a notebook from beside her and began to scribble at a slant._

_Sakura puffed up to shout again because it was better than sobbing, but Camilla said, “Just wait.”_

_So, Sakura stood still, huffing through her nose and trying very hard not to swallow her scorching tears._

_Elise turned the notebook for Sakura to see. She read the words and felt them sear across her soul. She took a shambling step back. Disgust crested like vomit in her throat._

_**That’s what friends do.**_

            _Sakura fled from sight after that, curling beneath the weight of her bedsheets and weeping until she’d exhausted herself._

            Last night, as the attackers mashed her face into the floorboards of the cabin, Sakura had seen Elise lying too still and serene against the wall and she’d thought blearily, _That’s my fault._

When the awful root, as Ryoma had taken to calling it, had been impressed into the bone just beneath her ear, through the singeing pain, Sakura had seen the ghost of her brother standing above Elise’s prone form and slowly shaking his head.

            “You better eat, Sakura,” Hinoka said around a mouthful of bread.

            Sakura scowled and looked down to see that her broken bread and donated bacon had migrated back to her.

            “It’s important to keep up your strength in times like these,” Ryoma said, but he’d only taken a few nibbles of his bacon.

            Sakura plucked the spongey innards from one piece of bread and popped it in her mouth. It was good, so good that her cheeks panged at the taste, but she chewed it in quick bites and swallowed it before the taste had even sunk in.

            She scarfed down the rest of her meal in the same way. She would eat to make her siblings happy, but not for herself.

            She had just finished swallowing her final strip of bacon when the grand doors, the only point of entry that had been heavily barricaded to prevent their escape, scooched open.

            Hinoka grabbed her arm, squeezing it so tight that she could feel her blood straining to flow, and yanked her upright as everyone scrambled to their feet.

            The doors swung open fully. They stayed open.

            “What’s the meaning of this?” Ryoma shouted.

            A woman with purple, close cropped hair, twin broadswords peeking over her back, and the ornaments of a Nohrian general stepped into the hall.

            “Your leader has vouched for your freedom,” she said.

            Her voice was rougher than any other woman’s Sakura had ever heard, but it masked a kindness beneath it as the woman looked over them all with a touch of concern.

            “Oh, thank gods,” Hinoka sighed. She released Sakura’s arm and Sakura rubbed where her sister’s fingers had dug.

            But it was Xander, not Corrin, that followed after and Sakura’s stomach quaked and her throat squeezed shut and she thought, _They’ve killed her._

From the corner of her eye, she watched Camilla lurch forward with Elise in her unsteady wake. Camilla launched herself at Xander just as Ryoma demanded, “What the hell is going on? Where’s Corrin?”

            Sakura saw his fingers twitch towards his belt, but Raijinto wasn’t there. It’d been taken with all the other weapons in the attack.

            As Sakura watched Xander push aside his sister with one arm, as she saw that his other was in a hastily made sling, and scrunch his brow above wild, searching eyes, the tension in her stomach unlocked a little.  

            “She’s not with you?” Xander asked.

“She’s been missing since we woke up here,” Camilla said. At her side, Elise nodded quickly.

            The woman in the general’s uniform asked, “This Corrin, short woman, silver hair, pointy ears?”

            Ryoma regarded the woman with cool disdain and Sakura tried to do the same, but the faded Nohrian crest on her shoulder made her too queasy to pretend to be calm. Takumi’s apprehension towards the Nohrians had become her own. More of them, especially in a place where they truly shouldn’t have been, could bring nothing good.

            “Yes,” Xander said.

            The woman hummed low in her throat and crossed her arms over her chest. The placid expression on her face was betrayed as she fussed at her quaff of hair with stiff fingers.

            “You must understand, we took great risks in bringing you all here,” the woman said. “We vetted each and every one of you against the silent dragon’s influence, but your friend required even more diligence.”

            Sakura couldn’t imagine what that meant. She’d already guessed that the awful root, which Hana and Subaki had told her had had no impact on anyone but her siblings and the Nohrian royals, was more than just a convenient anesthesia as she’d seen at least two people turn grotesque and inhuman at its touch. Though, from what Ryoma had said, that hadn’t happened to Corrin.

            “What’ve you done to her?” Hinoka demanded and Sakura saw that she rubbed at her wrist, where the awful root had been forced on her.

            Sakura’s fingers crept towards the cave beneath her ear. She winced at the touch. It was still tender.

            The woman hardly spared a glance towards Hinoka and stared down Ryoma instead. A strip of vague confusion glistened in the woman’s irises and Sakura prayed that it would remain. If Sakura’s distrust of the woman was accurate, then it would be best if Ryoma’s title, and hers and Hinoka’s too, went unspoken.  

            “Provided she does not raise our suspicions further,” the woman said, “you will be able to visit her in the infirmary soon.”

            The nameless soldiers and the various retainers who had stood about on the outskirts of the conversation pressed closer. Corrin’s name twisted and turned in their murmurings.

            “The infirmary?” Hinoka repeated. Her hand flew to her mouth and her fingers splayed over her nose.

            _Calm down,_ _Corrin’s been in the infirmary more than anyone else I know,_ Sakura wanted to say, but fear had turned Hinoka’s face pallid and Sakura knew it didn’t matter how many scrapes Corrin had gotten through in the past because that had all been before so much had been lost.

            Tears stabbed at her eyes and Sakura swiped at them with her roughhewn sleeve. When her eyes stung from dryness rather than wetness, Sakura blinked to see Elise’s endless stare fixated on her. She set her jaw and ignored the other girl.

            “Yes,” the woman replied sharply. Her shoulders had crept up towards her ears. From the worry lines creasing her face, Sakura knew she had to be at least middle aged, but the woman seemed more unsure of herself than she should’ve been.

            “Diana, please explain,” Xander said and the low tone he took carried the inkling of a threat.

            The woman, Diana, sighed. She worked her fingers back through her hair so that it fizzled. She said, “It’s my understanding that her reaction to the dragonsbane was rather… severe. And she hasn’t taken well to her isolated imprisonment.”          

            There was a gaggle of confused exclamations, but Ryoma’s shout rang out above the others. His usually calm demeanor had been shattered by a flash of cold fury that warped his features hard and pinched his mouth. He asked, “You’ve locked her up?”

            Then, he turned on Xander.

            “You let them lock her up?”

            Even though he didn’t have Raijinto, Sakura could practically see sparks shooting off her brother’s fingers. Corrin’s safety had always been a sour subject, but it hadn’t made him lose his composure in such a long time.

            _It’s always Corrin,_ Sakura thought. _Not even Takumi…_

But Sakura couldn’t force herself to finish the thought. Tears sprung up in her eyes again, but she didn’t touch them. Her nose burned.

            “I had nothing to do with it,” Xander said.

            Camilla stepped into the fray, dragging Elise behind her, and her voice was shrill as she jabbed her finger towards Ryoma and shouted, “How dare you even—”

            Xander grabbed Camilla by the shoulder and pulled her back.

            “Enough, Camilla,” he said and Camilla slunk back. Elise shifted from Camilla’s side to Xander’s. He touched the top of her head and her lips stretched in a gooey smile.

            Sakura’s entire body felt like it was wrapped in steel that kept squeezing tighter and tighter. At her side, Hinoka loosed a muffled curse that sounded like everything Sakura wished she could scream at the sky.

            Diana cleared her throat. Then, she said, “You must understand we cannot afford to be careless. We have not survived for as long as we have in this hellscape because we’ve been sloppy.”

            “Who’s we?” Ryoma asked. 

            Sakura didn’t miss how Xander had distanced himself from the faded general and she knew that her brother hadn’t either. Though, he didn’t soften his simmering anger towards Xander.

            “Survivors and refugees of the Silent Dragon,” Diana said.

            Sakura glanced at Hinoka, but her sister was rubbing her eyes with both hands and shaking her head.

            “That’s impossible,” Azura said, breaking from the tight-knit crowd. She teetered, but she caught herself before she could sway too far one way or another. She clung tight to her arms, but they jittered and jived uncontrollably.

            The healer in Sakura leapt to the forefront of her mind to pass a diagnosis of dehydration and shock on Azura, but there was absolutely nothing she could do about it without access to her staff.

            “Sometimes, it feels like it,” Diana said. She massaged the bridge of her nose.

            The flashes of doubt that flickered across the faces around Sakura matched the look on her own. She scowled.

            “I’ll explain everything once a decision is made on the girl,” Diana said. “Until then, feel free to explore the compound.”

            The entire room watched as she left. Sakura’s head hurt from the ridiculousness of it all.

            Xander cleared his throat and said, “All I know is that a group of Nohrian survivors and Vallite refuges have been stranded here for twenty years and that woman is their leader. Other than that, I'm as clueless as you are.”

            Sakura scrubbed at her brow with the heels of her hands. She tried to huff her frustration away, but it continued to choke her breaths.  

            Ryoma didn’t hesitate in taking advantage of their freedom. He walked for the open doors and said, “We need to find Corrin.”

            “Agreed,” Xander said and he followed after Ryoma with Elise at his side and Camilla close behind.

            As the room thinned around her, Sakura found her feet leaden. She couldn’t move because she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to throw herself into a search for her sister and learn that she’d lost another sibling. But worse than that, she didn’t want to throw herself into a search for her sister because she didn’t know that she wanted Corrin to be found.

            Finding Corrin the first time had spurred so much evil and heartbreak. Finding Corrin a second time could be even worse.

            The decision was taken away from her as Hinoka hooked onto her wrist and pulled so hard that Sakura tumbled right out of moral crisis into stagnant nothingness.

            “C’mon Sakura,” Hinoka said and Sakura followed behind with feet that didn’t feel like hers anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter's a bit of a doozy. Who doesn't love a new arc furnished with brand spanking new OCs and a scatterbrained introduction lol? Honestly though, I'm very nervous as this is all completely off script and very much in AU territory now. That being said, I have meticulously thought out everything about this arc and I really do think that it amplifies the core themes of this piece in a way that allows it to reach a more realized form that it never would have without an outside source (such as a total overhaul of the canon narrative of Valla being completely empty except for those in Anankos' ranks lol). I just... I'm very excited and very nervous and very tired and I am rambling, but I'm ready to embark into this new arc and I'm praying it'll be worth the risk!  
> I tried some rather experimental stuff in Corrin's scene with the flashbacks and memory wrenching and whatnot so that I forced myself not to write the entirety of Corrin's past lol. There were A LOT of small details I cut, especially in the blurb about her childhood in Nohr. In its initial, uncut form, this chapter was nearly eight pages longer than the polished version posted here lol.  
> Also, I've come to accept that this fic is going to clock in at somewhere close to 45 chapters and well, I just hope y'all will stick along with me for the ride lol.


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